a 


The  Lovable  Meddler 


UNIV.  OP  GALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES* 


Leddij  Rose 


The 

Lovable  Meddler 


By 

Leona  Dalrymple 

Author  of  Diane  of  the  Green  Van 


Illustrations  by 

Grant  Tyson  Reynard 


The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 
Chicago 


Copyright,  1915 

by 

The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Second  Printing 


The  Lovable  Meddler 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Faga 

1  Hame  o'  Roses 9 

2  Contains  cryptic  mention  of  "a  Peck  o'  Maut"  .  19 

3  TheWestons      .      .      . 28 

4  Concerns  itself  with  a  midnight  chat,  a  pot  of 

coffee  and  a  doctor's  book         53 

5  The  wooing  of  Rose 65 

6  The  Doctor's  Christmas 74 

7  Henchmen 87 

8  In  which  Larry  finds  the  thorn 95 

9  In  which  Larry  greets  the  dawn  of  another  day 

as  Black  Donald  did  not 114 

10  Tells  how  the  Doctor  took  a  hand  in  his  nephew's 

wooing  and  how  he  closed  the  studio  door 
behind  him 126 

11  Tells  of  a  sunrise  gallop  along  the  River  Road  .   135 

12  In  which  the  Doctor  decides  to  keep  on  brewing  139 

13  In  which  the  Doctor  secretly  plays  the  role  of 

a  dangerous  character  and  enlists  the  aid  of 

a  henchman 144 

14  In  which  Mrs.   Glenmuir   interviews  the  dan- 

gerous character  and  learns  something  about 
the  schemes  of  mice  and  men 150 

15  Chiefly  equine 159 

16  The  evolution  of  the  schemie 167 

17  Tells  a  tale  of  a  borrowed  shirt — how  once  more 

Lloyd  is  sent  to  rescue  Carol,  and  the  startling 
result  ............  176 

18  Tells  of  a  midnight  meeting  in  the  Attic  Nur- 

sery      191 

19  The  Doctor's  lads    .      .      .      .      .     .     .      .     .199 

20  Relates  something  of  a  cribbage  session  and 

considerable  gossip 208 

21  In  which  the  reader  finds  himself  in  a  doubtful 

place  and  doubtful  company  but  must  bear 
with  the  indignity  for  purposes  of  the  narra- 
tive. The  chapter  ends  more  reputably  .  .219 


2128990 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

22  In    which    the    cribbage    trio    with     excellent 

reason  goes  into  highly  scandalized  session 
and  the  Doctor  gloomily  triumphs  over  a 
terrible  temptation 227 

23  The  test  of  Bob's  philosophy  and  the  result       .   236 

24  Which  concerns  itself  with  a  gladiator  and  a 

hirsute  battle-trophy,  bandages  and  arnica 
and  a  telephone  call  and  tells  how  the  humble 
gladiator  made  port,  battered  and  elemental  .  240 

25  In  which  the  Doctor  finds  himself  the  guardian 

of  a  startling  patient  and  thereby  a  mystery 

is  cleared  up 248 

26  A  chapter  of  picturesque  politics,  of  a  tired  and 

worried  mother  with  slowly  whitening  hair 
and  how  Mother  Rose  grew  even  cheerier  as 
the  days  went  by 256 

27  Tells  how  the  Doctor  dropped  in  to  see  Davy  and 

how  he  ripped  out  the  button-hole  in  Director 
Harvey's  shirt-band 261 

28  Concerns  itself  with  Mother  Letty's  office,  with 

still  another  indiscretion  of  a  certain  Scot; 
tells  something  of  the  Colfax  loan  and  how 
a  broker  on  the  floor  of  the  Exchange  made 
a  purchase 266 

29  A  tale  of  ticker  and  tape  and  tears  and  trouble  .  275 

30  Of  a  limousine   and  an  Alpenstock    with  in- 

cidental mention  of  a  crucible  of  suffering     .  280 

31  How  Aunt  Ann  settled  the  Colfax  loan  and  how 

the  fuming  Doctor  disburdened  his  mind  .      .  287 

32  In  which  Aunt  Ann  feels  called  upon  to  rant 

and  the  Doctor  in  a  dark  and  terrible  hour 
prays  for  guidance  ........  296 

33  How  Rodney  found  the  kernel 306 

34  In  which  the  Doctor  takes  a  hand  in  the  elec- 

tion for  reasons  of  his  own  and  Mother  Letty 
finds  she  can  not  remember 310 

35  The  forces  that  went  to  the  making  of  Rodney  .   316 

36  Another  Rose-Party 339 

37  Of  the    great   Indian  liner,   Singapore,   and  a 

quiet   water-garden 366 

38  The  Bridal  Rose  .  374 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Leddy  Rose Frontispiece 

Maddened  by  the  charm  of  her,  Larry 
stormed  and  pleaded  .  .  .  As  Rose 
listened,  her  face  grew  very  white  and  her 
eyes  blazed  in  an  agony  of  pleading .  Page  108 

Bob  stirred  uneasily  and  the  girl  dropped  to 
her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  couch  with  a 
laugh  that  was  half  a  sob.  "  Oh,  Bob, 
dear,"  she  said  bravely,  "  I  have  been  a 
very  great  fool." Page  246 

The  Lovable  Meddler     ....     Page  360 


The  Lovable  Meddler 

Chapter  1 
"  Hame  o'  Roses  " 

E  telephone  rang. 

"  There!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Glenmuir  from 
the  veranda.  '  You  can  be  sure  that's  Rose 
Weston,  too  busy,  as  usual,  to  come  to  your 
party  - 

The  Doctor  laid  aside  his  paper.  He  was 
a  shrewd  and  kindly  faced  Scot,  much  given  to 
marked  peculiarities  of  diction  and  a  disrespect 
for  his  final  g's.  A  heavy  thatch  of  white  hair 
above  a  clear,  ruddy  skin  made  him  picturesque. 
A  pair  of  keen,  humorous  blue  eyes  told  their 
tale  of  vitality.  Set  beneath  shaggy  brows, 
they  twinkled  or  shot  fire  in  quick  succession 
and  warned  the  chance  offender  that  the  electric 
current  of  his  humor  was  a  swiftly  alternating 
one. 

"  Leave  the  lass  to  me! "  said  he  grimly  and 
presently  his  deep  voice  boomed  through  the 
hallway. 


10  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Dinna  say  ye  are  not  comin'  to  my  rose- 
party,  lass !  .  .  .  What !  None  of  ye  comin'  ? 
Busy,  eh?  .  .  .  Leddy  Rose,  I'm  losin' 
patience  with  ye.  Ye're  that  busy  and  clannish, 
all  of  ye,  that  ye  might  live  on  t'other  side  of 
the  world  for  all  we  ever  see  or  hear  of  ye. 
And  ye  haven't  been  to  see  my  Jeannie  for 
months  and  months!  .  .  .  Dinna  ye  ever 
rest  a  bit?  .  .  .  Mark  ye,  lass,  I'm  still 
the  family  doctor  and  I  can  fix  up  a  verra  fine 
case  and  pack  ye  off  to  bed  to  rest  for  a  month 
if  I  have  a  mind  to!  .  .  .  Dinna  fail  me, 
Rose,  lass,"  he  wheedled,  a  caress  in  his  voice. 
"  'Tis  no  rose-party  at  all  without  the  Leddy 
Rose  herself.  .  .  .  Guid,  that's  a  verra  fair 
compromise.  Dinna  fail  me."  He  hung  up  the 
receiver,  his  face  radiant.  . 

"  She'll  come  for  a  while  —  early,"  he  told  his 
wife  and  daughter.  "  Trust  your  artful  old 
father,  Jeannie,  that  she  winna  get  away.  Well, 
Jamie,  my  lad,  what's  on  your  mind,  eh? " 

James,  the  Scotch  gardener,  halted  at  the  foot 
of  the  veranda  steps,  pulling  his  cap  from  a 
grizzled  thicket  of  hair. 

"  I  would  have  ye  all  see  the  roses  with  the 
sunset  light  upon  them ! "  he  exclaimed  eagerly 
in  accordance  with  a  cherished  custom  on  the 
Doctor's  party  night.  "  It's  a  sight  for  sair 


Chapter  One  11 

e'en.  I  didna  think  that  any  year  could  be 
so  guid  for  the  flowers." 

Now  Jamie's  yearly  announcement  rarely 
varied.  Always  it  occurred  when  the  famous 
Glenmuir  roses  attained  the  climax  of  their  love- 
liness, the  celebration  of  which  had  inaugurated 
the  Doctor's  yearly  rose-party.  Always  they 
were  a  sight  for  "  sair  e'en "  and  always  to 
the  Doctor's  delight  Jamie  did  not  think  that 
any  year  could  be  so  "  guid  for  the  flowers." 
Always  too  must  the  Doctor  pretend  ignorance 
of  the  object  of  Jamie's  appearance  until  he 
had  it  from  Jamie's  own  lips.  It  was  a  time  of 
unalloyed  delight  to  all  the  inmates  of  the 
"  Hame  o'  Roses "  save  Flora,  Jamie's  strict 
and  pious  wife,  for  most  of  the  year  Jamie  too 
was  pious,  but  he  swore  most  unconcernedly 
when  the  rose-bugs  came. 

"The  deil's  in  'em!"  he  confided  presently 
to  the  Doctor,  leading  the  way  through  the 
wilderness  of  roses.  '  Ye  dinna  ken  what  a 
crack-brained  lot  they  all  be,  a-nibblin'  away 
at  the  leaves  like  so  many  niffy-naffy  sheep." 
Jamie  persisted  in  hinting  that  he  recognized 
certain  notorious  characters  among  the  rose- 
bugs.  '  That  one,  sir,  is  a  deil."  He  flipped 
the  bandit  into  space  with  a  muttered  impreca- 
tion and  the  Doctor  twinkled.  For  to  Jamie, 


12  The  Lovable  Meddler 

torn  by  conflicting  emotions,  all  the  vices  of 
the  universe  centered  in  the  rose-bug,  yet  he 
loathed  the  killing  of  any  living  thing. 

'  Whist,  Jamie,  my  lad,  softly,  softly! " 
warned  the  Doctor.  "  Flora  may  hear  ye." 
Jamie  eyed  the  nearest  window  in  dismay  and 
moved  on,  proudly  exhibiting  his  roses. 

'  There's  no  gainsayin'  it,"  vouched  the  Doc- 
tor with  a  sudden  glow  about  his  heart;  "  'tis  a 
bonny  sight."  He  glanced  at  the  long,  low, 
old-fashioned  house  set  in  its  green  wealth  of 
spreading  lawns  and  fine  old  elms.  Cool  depths 
of  waving  shadow  found  a  colorful  foil  in  the 
profusion  of  roses  which  had  led  the  Doctor 
to  christen  his  home  in  the  dialect  he  loved  — 
"  Hame  o'  Roses."  A  rambling  extension  at 
the  side  bore  a  weather-beaten  disclosure  of 
the  Doctor's  calling  in  the  words :  "  Roderick 
Glenmuir,  M.  D." 

"  Guid  faith,  Agnes,  (he  called  it  Ognes) 
I  love  it  all!"  And  wheeling  at  the  sound 
of  footsteps,  the  Doctor  waved  to  a  young  man 
striding  briskly  up  the  driveway. 

"  Ah,  Larry,  lad,"  he  called,  "  just  come 
see  the  bonny  roses.  With  the  glowin'  sunset 
light  upon  them,  ye'll  find  no  prettier  sight 
anywhere." 

The  visitor  approached,  smiling,  his  eyes  quite 


Chapter  One  13 

as  keen  and  blue  and  humorous  as  the  Doctor's 
own. 

"Glorious!"  he  agreed,  halting  beside  the 
trio,  hat  in  hand,  "  and  Cousin  Jean  with  this 
sunset  light  upon  her  hair  looks  like  a  sun 
goddess  inspecting  her  work." 

The  Doctor's  eyes  wandered  with  warm  affec- 
tion over  the  slim,  white-gowned  figure  among 
the  roses.  Touched  with  the  lingering  bright- 
ness of  the  wrestering  sun,  the  girl's  bronze 
wealth  of  hair  and  hazel  eyes  made  him  think 
somehow  of  Scottish  cairngorm. 

"  There,  Agnes,"  he  exclaimed  in  delight, 
"  have  I  not  often  said  that  the  lass's  hair  and 
eyes  and  her  nature  too  are  woven  of  strands 
of  sunlight?  Larry,  lad,  ye  have  a  way  of 
puttin'  things  that  fair  pleases  me.  Bob  did 
not  come,  eh? " 

"  Bob,"  explained  his  nephew,  smiling,  "  is 
building  up  a  terrific  blast  of  an  editorial  about 
the  Auburnia  Journal,  and  refused  to  leave  it 
uncompleted.  The  office  boy  and  one  or  two 
printers  volunteered  to  dig  him  out  of  his  mound 
of  paper  at  six  and  send  him  here." 

The  Doctor's  eyes  shot  fire. 

"I  hope  the  lad  will  blast  it  guid!"  he 
declared.  "  It's  a  yellow  sheet  and  Reddy 
Gunnigan  is  naught  but  an  Irish  anarchist 


14  The  Lovable  Meddler 

who  will  publish  any  bit  of  slander  that  comes 
his  way.  Nay,  Agnes,  I  will  have  my  say 
about  him.  He's  all  of  that  and  more  to  boot." 
And  with  a  much  dreaded  aptness  in  quoting 
Bobbie  Burns,  he  finished  triumphantly: 

'r  With  his  depths  and  his  shallows,  his  good  and 

his  evil 
All  in  all  he's  a  problem  must  puzzle  the  deevil" 

"  Mrs.  Glenmuir,"  said  Jean  mischievously, 
"your  husband  has  a  terrible  tongue!" 

"  Jeannie,"  grumbled  the  Doctor,  "  ye  will 
be  saucy  with  your  poor  old  father.  Like  your 
hair  and  your  eyes,  ye  take  that  too  from  your 
mother." 

"  Come  help  me  feed  Ginger  his  sugar  lumps, 
Larry,"  invited  Jean,  and  as  the  two  turned 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  old  barn  in  its 
covert  of  roses,  the  Doctor  sent  an  authoritative 
call  after  them. 

"  Jeannie,"  he  commanded,  "  dinna  ye  forget 
my  old  Peggy  when  ye  feed  that  deil  of  a 
Ginger.  Agnes,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  still 
following  the  pair  with  his  eyes,  "  I  just  canna 
help  thinkin'  to-day  how  verra  much  Larry 
grows  like  his  father.  He  has  the  same  high 
color  and  roguish  blue  eyes,  the  same  black  hair 


Chapter  One  15 

and  easy,  swing  of  the  shoulders.  Ah,  brother 
Larry  was  a  bonny  lad  too,  a  bonny  lad  —  " 

And  Agnes  Glenmuir  touched  him  impul- 
sively upon  the  arm,  her  face,  so  like  Jean's 
save  for  the  whitening  halo  of  her  hair,  oddly 
aglow. 

"  Roderick,"  she  exclaimed,  "  Larry  looks 
exactly  as  you  did  when  I  braved  Aunt  Har- 
riet's wrath  and  eloped  with  you  so  many  years 


The  Doctor  smiled  down  into  her  shining  eyes. 

"  Aweel,  lass,"  he  said  slyly,  "  were  not  his 
father  and  I  twin  brothers?  I  kenned  well 
enough  I  could  not  praise  Larry  without  shinin' 
myself." 


The  cathedral  clock  was  still  booming  six 
when  big  Bob  Huntley  sauntered  lazily  down 
Auburnia  Avenue  to  the  Hame  o'  Roses.  Like 
Peggy,  the  Doctor's  mare,  Bob  rarely  hurried. 

"  It's  warm,"  he  suggested,  his  eyes  sweeping 
the  friendly  quartette  of  faces  on  the  veranda 
and  lingering  upon  Jean.  "  Larry,  you  rene- 
gade, why  didn't  you  wait  for  me?" 

"  Too  much  Reddy  Gunnigan  copy!"  coun- 
tered Larry. 

"Did  ye  blast  him  guid,  Bob?"  demanded 


16  The  Lovable  Meddler 

the  Doctor  with  an  elemental  passion  for  driv- 
ing straight  into  the  heart  of  things.  Bob 
nodded  serenely. 

"  Most  beautiful  piece  of  abuse  I've  perpe- 
trated yet,"  he  drawled. 

Jean  glanced  at  him  in  vexed  amusement. 

"Bob,"  she  exclaimed,  "you're  incorrigible! 
How  can  you  speak  so  amiably  of  Reddy  after 
he  referred  to  you  last  night  in  print  as  '  that 
literary  mastodon  who  edits  the  Auburnia 
Press!'" 

Bob  threw  back  his  finely  moulded  head  and 
shook  with  laughter. 

'  Well,  now,"  he  exclaimed  lazily,  "  that  was 
good,  wasn't  it?  Dad  wanted  to  go  down  and 
dynamite  the  Journal  Building."  But  for  all 
the  ready  good  humor  of  his  reply  he  glanced 
uneasily  at  Jean  and  his  outburst  a  little  later 
to  Larry  as  they  strolled  along  the  driveway 
smoking  was  frankly  despondent. 

"  I  say,  Larry,"  he  began;  "  honestly,  now,  do 
you  think  I'm  perhaps  a  bit  too  —  too  strong 
on  philosophy?  " 

"  Mr.  Marcus  Aurelius  Huntley?  "  reminded 
Larry.  !<  Well,  you  did  use  to  drive  Quin  mad 
telling  him  how  to  control  his  temper." 

Bob  sighed.  "  Do  you  know,  I've  been  won- 
dering if  —  if  perhaps  too  much  stoic  philosophy 


Chapter  One  17 

isn't  emasculating  —  if  genuine  anger  isn't  after 
all  a  wholesome  touch  of  humanity  —  if  —  "  he 
broke  off,  shrugging. 

"  Philosophized  all  the  anger  out  of  your 
system?"  questioned  Larry,  puzzled. 

"  Fact  is,  Larry,"  owned  Bob,  "  that  I  don't 
really  know  what  it  is  to  lose  my  temper  any 
more  and  I'm  sorry  I've  lost  the  capacity. 
Anger  always  seemed  a  waste  of  energy  until 
lately  but  it's  —  Oh,  well,  it's  human!  I  fancy 
most  people,  particularly  women,  like  a  man 
who's  —  well,  we'll  say  a  bit  elemental  —  not  too 
expert  with  the  emotional  emergency  brake. 
What  do  you  think?" 

"Stick  to  your  philosophy!"  advised  Larry 
warmly. 

Bob  flung  away  his  cigar  and  slipped  his  arm 
about  his  friend's  shoulder  in  his  lazy,  affec- 
tionate way. 

'  Think  I  could  grow  a  temper,  Larry? "  he 
queried  good-humoredly.  "  Complexities  have 
been  known  to  develop  from  simple  beginnings. 
Certain  atoms  within  me  may  coalesce  and  fill 
this  new  need  in  my  existence!" 

"  Has  a  temper  become  essential  to  your 
existence?  " 

"  Indirectly,"  owned  Bob,  flushing.  "  Think 
I  can  evolute? " 


18  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  I  hope  not !  "  said  Larry  sincerely. 

Scotch  Flora  appeared  upon  the  veranda,  raw- 
boned  and  stern,  a  mute  loyalty  to  the  Doctor 
lighting  up  her  rugged  face.  As  she  silently 
jerked  her  gray  head  toward  the  dining  room, 
a  dinner  announcement  as  eccentric  as  it  was 
unvarying,  the  Doctor  nodded. 

'  Verra  guid,  Flora,  lass ;  the  lads  have  come 
to  dinner.  I'll  see  to  gettin'  them  in."  Then 
he  drolly  quoted: 

"Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat, 
And  some  wad  eat  that  want  it; 
But  we  hae  meat  and  we  can  eat, 
And  sae  the  Lord  be  thankit" 


Chapter  2 

Contains  cryptic  mention  of  a 
"Peck  of  Maut" 

AGNES,"  began  the  Doctor  guilefully  as 
Mrs.  Glenmuir  joined  him  on  the  reranda 
after  dinner,  "  Jamie  has  just  rounded  up  some 
notorious  crook  among  the  rose-bugs.  I  hear 
him  over  there  by  the  hedge.  I'll  just  step 
over  and  assist  with  the  execution." 

Now  this  was  but  a  lame  excuse  to  wander 
around  in  the  roses  with  Jamie,  discussing  floral 
genera  and  slandering  the  beetles  in  the  fashion 
of  all  other  June  twilights  that  were  not 
celebrative.  Such  excursions,  however,  were 
invariably  fraught  with  disastrous  results  to 
a  certain  pair  of  medical  knees  frequently  bent 
in  the  search  for  rose-bugs,  and  Mrs.  Glenmuir 
had  been  duly  deputized  by  the  Doctor  himself 
to  remind  him  of  the  respect  due  his  immaculate 
creases. 

"  I  think,"  she  hinted,  "  that  Jamie  is  tech- 
nically qualified  to  dispose  of  the  prisoner 
unassisted.  Besides,  he  has  infinitely  better  luck 
with  his  knees  than  you  do." 

19 


20  The  Lovable  Meddler 

The  Doctor  subsided  with  a  frank  sigh  of 
envy. 

"  Ah,  Agnes,  lass,"  he  fretted,  "  I  dinna 
doubt  that  when  I  apply  for  a  harp  and  a 
pair  of  wings,  Saint  Peter  will  ask  in  a  terrible 
voice :  '  His  name  and  most  characteristic  vice  ? ' 
and  the  Chief  Clerk  will  call  right  out,  '  Rod- 
erick Glenmuir,  Baggy  Troosers!  The  old 
sawbones  is  just  fair  notorious  because  of  them.' 
Just  to-day  Ben,  the  tailor,  said  that  no  other 
human  being  could  so  balloon  his  troosers  save 
he  had  a  tumor  on  each  knee! " 

From  within  the  Hame  came  the  sound  of 
laughing  voices,  of  a  deft  cadenza  on  the  piano 
and  Bob's  drawl. 

"  Here,  Jean,  let's  sing  this.  It's  appropriate. 
Larry,  you  Scotch  Lazarus,  find  the  missing 
sheet."  And  a  chorus  of  voices  within  blended 
into  the  melody  of  the  "  Garden  of  Roses," 
Bob's  lazy  bass  rumbling  along  a  full  bar  behind 
the  others. 

The  Doctor  hummed  the  air  wistfully,  keep- 
ing time  with  an  immaculate  boot.  "  Agnes, 
ye  dinna  think  then  that  my  troosers  will  sur- 
vive a  wee  stroll  in  the  garden?  " 

"  They  never  have ! "  parried  his  mentor  and 
thus  impugned  the  Doctor  settled  back  in  his 
chair,  fixing  a  speculative  eye  upon  a  lighted 


Chapter  Two  21 

window  opposite  where,  he  presently  opined, 
Judge  Caperton,  a  favorite  cribbage  crony,  was 
doubtless  dressing  for  his  party.  Watching  the 
moon  crest  the  velvet  murk  above  the  Caperton 
mansion  and  silver  the  lawn,  the  Doctor  glided 
happily  into  quotation. 

"  The  rising  moon  began  to  glowr 
The  distant  Cumnock  hills  out-owre; 
To  count  her  horns,  wi'  a   my  power 

I  set  mysel'; 
But  whether  she  had  three  or  four 

I  could  na  tell. 

"  Ah,  Larry,"  as  his  nephew  emerged  from 
the  house,  "  have  ye  deserted  the  singers  so 
soon?  Ye're  a  restless  lad." 

"  I  had  a  notion,"  said  Larry,  smiling,  "  that 
I'd  like  to  stroll  about  and  smoke.  And  the 
moonlit  roses  look  inviting." 

"  Aweel,  they  are  pretty,"  owned  the  Doctor. 
"  Myself,  though,  I  would  have  the  warm  life 
of  the  sun  upon  'em.  Your  moonlight  is  too 
devitalizin',  Larry,  too  cool  and  impersonal.  It 
makes  my  bonny  roses  over  into  pale  uniform 
ghosts  of  silver  and  scent,  and  I  have  a  hankerin' 
for  flesh  and  blood  with  a  strong  bit  of  indi- 
viduality to  spice  it. 

"  Agnes,"  he  added  as  Larry  strolled  away, 


22  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"I'm  mortal  glad  the  lad  has  come  to  anchor 
at  last  in  Auburnia  and  is  doin'  so  well  with 
his  architectin'.  A  verra  fine  sight,  too,  the 
way  he  keeps  bachelor  hoose  together  with  his 
friends.  Agnes,  ye  laughed  a  bit  when  I  chris- 
tened the  place  '  The  Music  Box,'  eh,  lass  ?  But 
verra  well  christened  it  is,  for  music  there  must 
be  when  the  lads  all  love  it  so." 

But  the  Doctor's  guests  were  beginning  to 
arrive  and  presently  shaking  hands  and  beaming 
at  the  laughing  crowd  of  old  friends  who  were 
wont  informally  to  surround  him  on  his  party 
night  to  hear  him  read  from  his  thumbed  and 
ragged  volume  of  Burns  and  perform  upon  an 
aged  bagpipe,  he  came  at  last  to  a  girl  with 
a  soft  mass  of  sunny  hair  and  an  oddly  winsome 
face  in  whose  warm  brown  eyes  danced  an  elfin 
cheeriness. 

"  Ah,  dear  Leddy  Rose!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I'm 
so  mortal  glad  ye  did  not  disappoint  me.  Slip 
over  to  the  garden,  dear  lass,"  the  Doctor 
cleared  his  throat  with  a  furtive  glance  at  Mrs. 
Glenmuir,  "  and  have  a  wee  glimpsie  at  my 
bonny  flowers  before  the  party  begins.  I  would 
not  have  ye  miss  'em."  And  as  Rose  Weston 
nodded  cordially  and  slipped  away,  the  Doctor 
made  a  great  to-do  about  his  romping  collies, 
named  from  "The  Twa  Dogs"  of  Robert 


Chapter  Two  23 

Burns  —  for  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  eyes  were  full 
upon  him. 

"Down  with  ye,  Caesar!  And  you  too, 
Luath!  Your  jumpin'  about  so  hiltie-skiltie  is 
verra  bad  for  creases.  Anyway,  I  did  not  bid 
ye  to  my  party.  Ye  must  have  sneaked  away 
from  Jamie.  Away  with  ye!  Have  ye  no 
respect  at  all  for  my  party  troosers?  Agnes, 
I  would  have  ye  call  off  your  dogs !  .  .  .  Ah, 
here  come  the  lads  from  the  Music  Box  now 
and  t'other  three  lads  in  the  flat  across  the  hall 
are  likely  with  'em." 

A  motor  car  drew  up  at  the  curb  with  a 
jubilant  honk  of  announcement,  disgorging  a 
laughing  crowd  of  men,  Larry's  three  chums 
from  the  Music  Box  and  the  men  from  the 
rival  apartment  across  the  hall. 

The  Doctor  waved  an  excited  arm  in  response 
to  their  chorus  of  greeting. 

"Do  I  see  every  mother's  son  of  ye?"  he 
demanded,  striding  down  the  walk.  "  Guid 
faith,  Jerry,  lad,  dinna  tell  me  Lloyd  couldn't 
come.  Out  of  the  way  there,  Norman!  I've 
a  strong  notion  he's  hidden  in  the  car." 

Midst  a  storm  of  laughter  the  Doctor 
unearthed  his  missing  guest  and  bore  him  off 
in  triumph  up  the  walk. 

On  the  veranda  steps  ahead,  frowning  at  the 


24  The  Lovable  Meddler 

light  in  Judge  Caperton's  room  and  fretfully 
pulling  at  his  white  mustache,  loomed  the  figure 
of  Colonel  Huntley,  Bob's  tall  and  military 
father. 

"  Roderick,"  grumbled  the  colonel,  "  there's 
no  earthly  reason  why  Peter  shouldn't  be  over 
here  by  now,  none  whatever.  He's  merely  fob- 
dobbing  around  as  usual.  I'm  going  right  over 
there  now  —  this  minute  —  and  rap  on  the  door. 
May  stir  him  up  a  bit.  Thought  perhaps  before 
the  party  started  we  three  might  get  a  chance 
to  finish  that  little  game  of  cribbage  he  refused 
to  finish  last  night  because  he'd  made  some  fussy 
promise  to  himself  to  be  in  bed  by  eleven.  But 
no  —  he's  late  of  course  —  late  as  usual.  Most 
amazing  thing  to  me  how  he  fusses  over  trivial- 
ities." And  still  grumbling  the  choleric  old 
colonel  strode  off  down  the  walk.  The  Doctor's 
eyes  twinkled.  It  was  not  that  punctilious 
Judge  Caperton  was  ever  late;  it  was  the 
colonel  who  was  unfailingly  early  and  always 
impatient. 

The  Doctor  wheeled  —  to  find  Larry  and 
Rose  Weston  at  his  elbow. 

"Well,  Leddy  Rose,"  he  began,  "did  ye 
then  inspect  my  bonny  roses? " 

"  And  found  a  rival  admirer,"  smiled  the 
girl,  "  with  Glenmuir  eyes." 


Chapter  Two  25 

"  Aweel,  then,"  shrugged  the  Doctor,  his  eye- 
lids veiling  a  sly  twinkle,  "  I  will  not  bother 
makin'  ye  two  acquent.  The  roses  have  done 
so  already.  Into  the  house  with  ye  and  have 
some  more  singin'.  The  lads  are  just  ahead 
of  ye.  Larry,  I  would  have  all  the  lads  sing 
'  The  Stein  Song '  with  my  Leddy  Rose  here 
playin'.  Guid  faith,  Roderick  Glenmuir,"  he 
added  as  they  obediently  disappeared,  "  would 
ye  just  listen  to  the  colonel? " 

From  the  judge's  veranda  over  the  way  came 
the  noise  of  thunderous  rapping  and  the  colonel's 
acrid  voice  sarcastically  inquiring  if  his  friend 
were  still  hunting  overshoes  and  earlaps. 

"  Agnes,"  said  the  Doctor  gleefully  as  Mrs. 
Glenmuir  joined  him,  "  would  ye  just  listen  to 
old  Bob  a-pesterin'  Peter!  Deil  take  it,  they've 
let  him  in.  Now  I  canna  hear  what  he's  sayin'." 

"  Roderick,"  Mrs.  Glenmuir  looked  directly 
at  the  Doctor,  who  promptly  looked  away, 
"  surely  you  knew  that  Larry  was  still  in  the 
garden  when  you  sent  Rose  Weston  out  to  see 
the  flowers? " 

"  Aweel,  Agnes,"  evaded  the  Doctor,  rubbing 
his  chin,  "canna  a  body  forget?" 

"  Surely  you  would  not  otherwise  have  sent 
her  out  there,  knowing  as  you  do  that  she  and 
Larry  are  utter  strangers?" 


26  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Dinna  pester  me,  Agnes,  lass,"  begged  the 
Doctor.  "  'Tis  my  party  night.  Why  didn't 
ye  tell  the  lass  yourself? " 

"  You  gave  me  no  opportunity.  Roderick, 
I  suspect  —  " 

But  the  Doctor  had  suddenly  discovered  new 
beauties  in  the  summer  moon  and  he  murmured 
softly: 

rf  The  night  was  still,,  and  o'er  the  hill 
The  moon  shone  on  the  castle  wa'f 
The  mavis  sang,  while  dewdrops  hang 
Around  her  on  the  castle  wa\" 

"  I  suspect,"  persisted  Mrs.  Glenmuir,  "  that 
you  sent  Rose  out  there  purposely." 

'  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o'  maut,'  "  quoted 
the  Doctor,  once  more  saddling  the  responsibility 
of  his  reply  upon  Burns,  while  Mrs.  Glenmuir 
raised  expressive  eyebrows. 

"  I  was  quite  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  *  Willie 
was  brewing '  something  by  the  look  in  his  eye 
but  —  " 

"  Ah,"  broke  in  the  harassed  Doctor,  "  there 
come  old  Bob  and  jreter  now.  I'm  mortal  glad." 

The  bickering  cribbagers  were  crossing  the 
street  as  the  Doctor  spoke,  Colonel  Huntley 
firing  a  volley  of  questions  at  his  prim  com- 
panion, a  fastidiously  attired  man  of  middle 


Chapter  Two  27 

age,  with  sparse  iron-gray  hair  and  a  lean,  dark, 
kindly  face.  In  the  house  a  vigorous  chorus  of 
male  voices  struck  up  the  "  Stein  Song "  and 
the  Doctor  turned  impulsively  to  his  wife. 

"  Ah,  Agnes,  lass,"  he  exclaimed  affection- 
ately, "  dinna  ye  bother  your  pretty  head  about 
me.  I'm  a  meddlesome,  matchmakin'  old  saw- 
bones. I  just  had  a  wee  picture  in  my  eye 
how  verra  pretty  the  dear  lass  would  look  to 
Larry  in  the  bonny  roses  and  the  moonlight." 


Chapter  3 
The  Westons 

RODERICK,"  said  Mrs.  Glenmuir  early 
one  evening  in  the  week  following  the 
Doctor's  rose-party,  "  I'm  afraid  it's  about  time 
for  our  yearly  call  upon  the  Westons." 

"Hum!"  said  the  Doctor  in  a  discouraging 
monotone  and  sniffed,  indicating  as  he  did  so 
a  full  page  advertisement  in  his  Medical  Journal 
in  which  a  very  prim  and  exquisitely  tailored 
gentleman  was  stiffly  driving  the  very  primmest 
of  motor  cars. 

;<  There,  Agnes,"  he  exclaimed  with  gloomy 
satisfaction,  "  there  now  is  such  a  thing,  I  take 
it,  as  you  would  have  me  be.  I  have  been  lookin' 
him  over  most  careful.  Now  I  dinna  suppose 
his  troosers  are  ever  baggy  and  certainly  he 
would  not  leave  his  motor  lyin'  idle  in  the  barn 
to  scallawag  around  behind  old  piebald  Peggy. 
Oh,  my,  my,  my,  no,  Agnes!  Such  a  spruce 
and  fancy  Dandy  Jim  as  all  that  would  ride 
about  among  his  patients  in  his  spotless  motor, 
as  ye  would  have  me  do,  all  creased  up  the 
middle  like  the  king's  newspaper.  How  he 
would  uphold  the  dignity  of  the  Medical  Pro- 

28 


Chapter  Three  29 

fession!  I  canna  even  squint  at  the  bonny  little 
man  without  mortal  pangs  of  envy. 
Hum  —  Ah!  .  .  .  Listen  to  this,  Agnes: 
*  The  experiments  of  that  eminent  psychologist, 
Douglas  Macllvane,  are  astonishing  the  medical 
world ! '  Agnes,  lass,  'tis  Duggie,  my  old  friend 
Duggie!  When  we  were  at  Glasgow  together 
we  used  to  quarrel  fearful  about  the  treatment 
of  mental  disease  and  he  came  to  America  in 
the  steamer  with  me,  swearin'  earnest  and  stub- 
born to  stick  to  his  daffy  psychotherapy  no 
matter  what  I  might  say  —  " 

"  And  since  the  evening  is  free,"  persisted 
Mrs.  Glenmuir,  ignoring  the  evasion,  "  Jean  and 
I  fancied  wre  might  all  go  to-night  and  have 
it  over  with." 

"  Impossible,  Agnes,"  declared  the  Doctor, 
fairly  cornered.  "  I  have  no  suitable  troosers. 
The  summer  is  verra  bad  for  creases." 

Now  the  Doctor  rarely  had  any  suitable 
'  troosers '  when  it  was  time  to  call  upon  the 
Westons,  wherefore  to-night  his  statement  was 
refuted  by  material  evidence. 

"  I  canna  conceive,"  he  sniffed,  frowning, 
"  who  'twas  began  this  whig-ma-doodle  custom 
of  callin'  formal  upon  Rodney  Larimore 
Weston,  as  he  so  grandly  calls  himself,  and 
his  leddy.  I  just  canna  abide  listenin'  to  the 


30  The  Lovable  Meddler 

man's  clash-ma-claver  about  his  art  and  his 
nerves,  and  savin'  a  glimpse  of  the  dear  Leddy 
Rose,  I  dinna  care  a  boddle  about  callin'  any- 
way. One  thing,  Agnes,"  with  biting  reference 
to  an  abominated  silk  hat;  "  I  winna  wear  my 
Hamfatters'  hat  no  matter  what  ye  may  say." 
And  the  Doctor  stalked  from  the  room,  glower- 
ing. Scarcely  had  he  disappeared,  however, 
before  the  door  opened  again  and  his  head 
appeared. 

"  Dinna  mind  me,  Agnes,"  he  said  unex- 
pectedly. "I'm  in  a  bit  of  a  crankous  mood. 
I'll  phone  Bob  and  Larry  to  come  along  with 
us  and  liven  things  up  a  bit."  And  later  Mrs. 
Glenmuir  decided  that  a  "  crankous "  mood, 
whatever  it  might  be,  was  also  a  somewhat 
dangerous  and  uncertain  one. 

"  Bob's  musickin'  with  Larry  at  the  Music 
Box,"  announced  the  Doctor  presently  from  the 
telephone.  "  We'll  drop  in  and  get  'em." 


The  string  quartette  of  the  Music  Box  had 
cordially  stood  sponsor  for  the  rival  bachelor 
establishment  across  the  hall,  christening  it,  in 
due  time,  when  its  three  inmates  had  with  many 
grins  acquired  a  clarinet,  an  oboe  and  a  flute 
in  friendly  rivalry,  "  The  Cave  of  the  Winds." 


Chapter  Three  31 

Jeremiah  Colson,  Artist  —  Norman  Ames,  Den- 
tist —  and  Roger  Brett,  Civil  Engineer  —  thus 
read  the  Auburnia  directory  in  concise  descrip- 
tion of  the  wind  trio,  but  the  copy  which  hung 
in  the  Cave  itself  bore  a  heavily  interpolated 
question  mark  after  Norman's  profession  that 
was  distinctly  accusatory. 

Unlike  the  struggling  beginners  in  the  Cave 
wdth  their  frenzied  scales  and  tootings,  the  string 
quartette  brought  to  its  assembly  an  individual 
proficiency  of  no  mean  order.  Larry  with  his 
cello,  Grant  Dallinger  with  his  violin  and  Quin 
Courtney  with  his  viola  had  made  a  popular 
trio  in  college  days  with  Bob  Huntley  at  the 
piano.  And  Lloyd  Ridgley,  Larry's  young 
assistant  in  "  architectin',"  had  since  made  a 
willing  fourth. 

The  two  apartments  lay  upon  either  side  of 
a  wide  hall  on  the  topmost  floor  of  a  small 
apartment  house,  the  menage  of  the  Music  Box 
in  the  hands  of  one  O'Hagan,  that  of  the  Cave 
at  the  mercy  of  an  aged  and  benevolent  negro 
called  Uncle  Shad,  a  popularization  of  Shad- 
rach,  both  members  of  that  erratic,  worshipping 
clientele  of  characters  ranging  from  tramps  to 
socialistic  poets  whom  the  Doctor  somehow  con- 
trived to  pick  up  and  make  his  friends  for  life. 

A  cataclysm  of  toots  broke  out  in  the  Cave 


32  The  Lovable  Meddler 

of  the  Winds  as  the  elevator  shot  skyward  with 
the  Glenmuirs.  The  Doctor  made  a  wry  face. 

"  Oh,  my,  my !  "  he  lamented.  "  Verra  bad, 
verra  bad  indeed.  Sequel  —  the  janitor." 

The  prophecy  was  accurate.  The  sequel 
arrived  and  departed,  followed  by  some  friendly 
advice  relative  to  the  janitor's  jealousy  of  bud- 
ding genius.  In  the  calmer  melange  of  toots, 
the  Doctor  led  the  way  across  the  hall  and 
opened  the  Cave  door. 

'  Would  ye  just  glimpse  the  lads  a-metro- 
nomin'  with  their  feet,  Agnes ! "  he  murmured, 
surveying  a  line  of  music  stands  and  a  trio  of 
backs.  "  Ye  can  see  their  youthful  enthusiasm 
in  the  verra  puff  of  their  cheeks." 

The  startled  pipers  wheeled  in  indignation. 

"  The  building,"  mused  Jerry  Colson,  "  doth 
abound  in  jealous  beings." 

"  Come  over  to  the  Music  Box  with  me," 
invited  the  Doctor.  "  Then  my  voice  winna 
have  quite  so  much  competition  —  " 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  Doctor  arrived  at 
the  Music  Box  with  the  wind  trio  at  his  heels. 
Enthusiasm  begot  one  of  his  inspirational 
moments. 

"  Laddies,"  he  exclaimed  to  Mrs.  Glenmuir's 
dismay  as  the  string  quartette  swarmed  about 
him  in  cordial  greeting,  "  I  would  have  every 


Chapter  Three  33 

mother's  son  of  ye  come  along  callin'  with  me 
and  have  a  wee  bit  of  music  at  the  Westons. 
We'll  surprise  the  dear  Leddy  Rose.  Ding  it! 
I  wish  I  had  my  bagpipe  .  .  .  though,"  he 
added,  "  'twould  doubtless  get  some  upon  Rod- 
ney's nerves. 

"I  just  canna  abide  the  man!"  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir  heard  him  confiding  a  little  later  to  his 
nephew.  "  Did  I  tell  ye,  Larry,  that  in  the 
Weston  family  mother  goes  to  business  and 
father  takes  an  afternoon  nap?  Un-hum!  So 
it  is. 

fe  Some,  lucky,  find  a  flow'ry  spot, 
For  which  they  never  toiled  nor  swat! " 

He  quoted  the  couplet  fiercely.  "  And  that's 
Rodney  Larimore  Weston.  When  he  had  money 
he  did  nothin'  at  all,  and  when  betimes  he  lost 
it  all  with  his  visionary  schemin',  he  did  the 
same.  Fascinatin'  as  he  is  with  his  healsome 
look  and  his  big  talk,  I  canna  abide  him!  But 
Mother  Letty  and  all  her  pretty  daughters 
worship  the  idle  skellum  like  a  god!  Oh,  my, 
my,  my,  yes,  Larry,  he's  a  genius  with  tempera- 
ment and  nerves  and  all  t'other  niffy-naffy 
fixin's  necessary  to  set  him  artistically  apart 
from  other  men.  Pesters  a  bit  of  canvas  with 
a  brush  and  calls  it  paintin',  but  I've  a  notion 


34  The  Lovable  Meddler 

when  he  goes  about  with  one  of  his  picture 
monstrosities  under  his  arm,  'tis  his  magnetism 
and  not  his  work  that  wins,  for,"  vexedly,  "  the 
man's  brimful  of  it." 

"  He  sells  some  work  then? " 

"  Maybe  one  picture  in  two  years,"  said  the 
Doctor  tartly,  "  but,  as  Bobbie  Burns  would  put 
it,  it  keeps  him  '  all  puffed  up  wi'  windy  pride ! ' 
Better  to  my  thinkin'  if  he  sold  none  of  them. 
It  would  maybe  puncture  his  rainbow  soap- 
bubble  of  future  glory  and  shame  him  into 
workin'.  Ah,  Agnes,  did  I  not  warn  ye? 
Already  it's  rainin'  fast.  'Tis  not  a  verra  pro- 
pitious night  for  callin',  as  I  pointed  out."  And 
grumbling,  the  Doctor  raised  his  umbrella, 
shrugging  at  the  chilly  dampness  of  the  summer 
night. 

Many-roomed  and  rambling,  the  Weston  home 
lay  to  the  north  in  the  older  part  of  Auburnia, 
its  windows  many-paned  crystal  checkerboards 
of  another  day.  Backgrounded  by  an  orchard 
of  cherry  trees  and  a  crazy  barn,  the  old  house 
stretched  out  shallow  arms  on  either  side  of 
a  geranium-bordered  walk,  straight  into  the 
heart  of  the  old-fashioned  gardens  beyond. 
Here,  in  seasonal  parade,  hollyhocks  and  sun- 
flowers bloomed  by  the  picket  fence  in  the  rear; 
dahlias  and  gladiolas  peered  inquisitively  in  at 


Chapter  Three  35 

the  kitchen  windows;  and,  haloing  the  old  house 
in  the  perfume  of  the  past,  a  drowsy  line  of 
ragged  sailors  and  fluttering  pansies  bent  velvet 
heads  to  the  sweet  alyssum  and  silver-seeded 
portulaca  at  their  feet.  Drawn  too  about  the 
crazy  barn  in  Andalusian  cordon,  tiger  lily  and 
marigold  flared  brilliantly  by  the  side  of  the 
blood-red  fuchsia  and  the  bleeding  heart;  but 
everywhere  in  the  mingling  one  caught  the  color 
touch  of  an  artist. 

At  the  end  of  the  western  wing  lay  Rodney's 
studio,  its  line  of  many-paned  windows  framing 
a  nocturne  of  old-fashioned  gardens  to  the  side 
and  rear,  and  the  quiet,  elm-shadowed  street  to 
the  front.  No  hint  of  fading  charm  marred 
its  cheerful  exoticism;  a  box  marked  "  Father 
Weston's  Studio  "  to  which  every  wage-earning 
daughter  cheerfully  contributed,  had  long  ago 
rescued  it  from  the  old-fashioned  maze  of  rooms 
about  it  and  made  it  quite  as  handsome  and 
Sybaritic  as  the  artist  himself. 

Here  in  his  great  chair  one  might  find  Rodney 
any  night,  smiling  indulgently  upon  the  slight, 
brown-eyed,  tired-looking  little  wife,  winsome 
of  cheek  and  lip  like  Rose,  who  turned  after 
business  hours  to  the  relaxation  of  entertaining 
her  husband.  For  Rodney,  after  a  hard  day 
with  his  canvas  and  pigments,  rarely  found  his 


36  The  Lovable  Meddler 

eyes  equal  to  the  added  strain  of  perusing  his 
newspaper  and  this  service  his  wife  was  more 
than  willing  to  take  upon  herself.  Thus  in 
utter  contentment  the  two  spent  their  cheerful 
evenings,  Rodney  listening  or  dozing  as  the 
mood  seized  him,  Letty  turning  noiselessly  from 
the  newspaper  to  her  sewing  whenever  her  artist 
dozed.  And  thus  presently  the  Doctor  and  his 
party  found  them  when  Lisbeth,  the  Westons' 
sole  domestic,  had  ushered  them  into  the  studio. 

"Roderick!"  exclaimed  Rodney,  lazily  emer- 
ging from  his  chair  by  the  fireplace  where  a 
slight  fire  crackled  fitfully  to  rout  the  chill,  "  I 
have  just  been  telling  Letty  this  instant  that 
it  was  certainly  time  for  your  evening  with  us." 

"  So  he  has,  Roderick,  so  he  has ! "  fluttered 
Mrs.  Weston  and  something  in  her  voice 
invested  Rodney's  careless  prevision  with  the 
dignity  of  a  rare  and  difficult  achievement. 

There  were  times  when  the  Doctor  quite  lost 
patience  with  Letty,  much  as  he  admired  her. 
Her  subtle  flattery  and  self-effacement  in  Rod- 
ney's presence  were  so  unlike  her  at  other  times 
that  he  could  never  quite  bring  himself  to  under- 
stand it.  So  to-night,  with  an  ambiguous  com- 
ment upon  Rodney's  "  barometric  bones,"  the 
Doctor  formally  presented  his  orchestra,  at 
which  Rodney  had  already  glanced  in  startled 


Chapter  Three  37 

interest,  and  fell  to  fingering  a  magazine  with- 
out joining  further  in  the  pleasant  chatter  all 
about  him. 

This,  of  itself,  was  distinctly  ominous  but 
when,  after  the  ladies  were  duly  seated,  the 
Doctor  made  straight  for  Rodney's  great  chair 
by  the  fire  and  deliberately  entrenched  himself 
therein,  there  was  a  perceptible  flutter  through- 
out the  room.  The  Doctor's  action  was  very 
definite  heterodoxy. 

Now  this  magnificent  chair  of  Rodney's  was 
one  which  the  artist  himself  had  fondly  pre- 
sented to  his  wife  one  Christmas  and  which  by 
some  inexplicable  twist  of  destiny  had  since 
become  as  intimately  his  own  as  his  fastidious 
clothing.  In  the  Weston  home  it  was  a  sacred 
object  which  no  one  presumed  to  desecrate,  and 
the  Doctor,  in  his  occasional  Westonian  tirades, 
was  wont  to  term  it  "  The  Throne  Chair,"  sar- 
castically commiserating  the  unfortunate  king 
who  had  been  obliged  to  purchase  such  an  essen- 
tial article  of  state  with  a  portion  of  his 
Christmas  exchequer.  What  wonder  then  that 
Letty  cleared  her  throat  nervously  and  Mrs. 
Glenmuir  stared  aghast?  That  Jean  stifled  a 
wild  desire  to  laugh  and  Bob  took  refuge  in  a 
strangled  cough?  Clearly  the  Doctor  was  on 
the  warpath. 


38  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Never  before  had  he  sat  himself  down  in  the 
Throne  Chair  but  then,  never  before,  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir  wildly  remembered,  had  he  called  upon 
Rodney  in  the  uncertain  throes  of  a  "  crankous  " 
mood!  As  for  Rodney  himself,  he  appeared 
quite  helpless,  straightway  beginning  a  purpose- 
less amble  about  the  room  and  carefully  ignoring 
a  chair  or  so  he  passed  in  a  restless  but  ever- 
patient  survey  of  his  studio  walls. 

"  Sit  yourself  down,  man  Rodney,  sit  yourself 
down!  "  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  briskly  turning 
the  log. 

Rodney  started  violently.  "  Do  excuse  me, 
Roderick!  "  he  begged.  "  I'm  very  restless  and 
the  room  is  still  chilly.  My  nerves  will  not  let 
me  sit  down.  Presently  —  presently." 

Mrs.  Glenmuir  instantly  trained  a  compelling 
gaze  upon  the  usurper  in  the  Throne  Chair. 
To  no  avail.  The  Doctor  continued  to  accord 
the  fire  a  careful  supervision  and  refused  to 
look  up. 

"  Roderick,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  have 
Rodney's  chair." 

"  Whist,  Agnes,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor  loudly, 
"  didn't  ye  hear  the  guid  man  say  himself  that 
his  nerves  just  winna  let  him  sit  down?  Letty, 
what  would  be  the  meanin'  of  the  fearsome 
racket  in  the  barn? " 


Chapter  Three  39 

"  It's  the  twins,"  said  Mrs.  Weston,  coloring. 
"  Lisbeth  was  too  busy  to  do  the  barn  work  as 
usual  to-night  and  the  twins  are  making  a  lark 
of  bedding  old  Molly  down  for  the  night.  Just 
hear  them!  They  romp  in  the  hay  like  a  pair 
of  boys." 

"  Aweel,"  murmured  the  Doctor  with  disarm- 
ing cordiality,  "  'tis  pleasant  work  and  healthy 
and  verra  guid  for  the  nerves."  And  it  was 
quite  evident  from  the  set  of  the  Doctor's  chin 
that  he  was  prepared,  if  assailed,  to  launch  forth 
a  mass  of  clinical  facts  in  support  of  barn  thera- 
peutics. But  with  the  entrance  of  Rose  and 
baby  Tavia,  who  invariably  won  exemption  from 
early  bed-going  on  the  night  of  the  Doctor's 
call,  the  electric  atmosphere  was  for  a  time  at 
least  clarified. 

Swiftly  alternating  moods  were  no  rarity  with 
the  Doctor.  Now  with  the  ready  twinkle  in  his 
keen  and  kindly  eyes,  he  held  forth  welcoming 
hands  to  the  small  "  bairnie  "  with  whom  he  was 
at  all  times  a  favorite,  and  drew  a  chair  beside 
him  for  his  Leddy  Rose. 

"God  bless  my  soul!"  he  beamed  as  Tavia 
with  a  shriek  of  delight  clambered  aboard  his 
long-suffering  knees,  "what  have  we  here,  eh? 
„  .  •  „  Hum!"  as  Tavia  unearthed  one  of  the 
old-fashioned  sticks  of  candy  with  which  the 


40  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Doctor's  pockets  were  eternally  ammunitioned. 
"Robbin'  the  commissariat,  eh?  I  canna  con- 
ceive just  why  'tis  all  the  bairnies  must  rummage 
about  my  clothes  so  hiltie-skiltie  with  such  scant 
respect  for  my  dignity.  I  have  been  told  by  my 
critics  that  it's  a  verra  bad  thing  for  the  knees 
of  a  body's  troosers.  To  Banbury  Cross,  eh, 
ye  wee  pirate!  Verra  well,  then,  to  Banbury 
Cross  we  go  together,  and  deil  take  the  troosers. 
Heigho,  I  dinna  care  a  boddle  for  my  creases." 
And  the  Doctor  returned  from  Banbury  Cross 
as  usual  with  hair  and  knees  awry. 

"  Well,  Leddy  Rose?  "  The  Doctor  glanced 
searchingly  across  at  Rose's  smiling  face,  framed 
in  a  halo  of  firelight.  The  girl's  warm  brown 
eyes  met  his  unflinchingly  but  her  color  deep- 
ened. Many  a  kindly  lecture  on  the  value  of 
rest  had  been  presaged  by  this  very  look,  and 
to-night  would  have  been  no  exception  but  for 
the  sound  of  a  whistled  duet  in  the  hallway  as 
the  notorious  Weston  twins  came  marching  in 
from  the  barn  and  whistled  shrilly  up  the  stair- 
way for  the  others.  And  presently  the  studio 
was  besieged  by  a  charming  bevy  of  brown-eyed, 
fair-haired,  laughing  girls. 

They  were  a  winsome  lot,  King  Rodney's 
daughters,  wonderfully  fair  and  clear  of  skin, 
with  the  charm  and  coloring  of  wild  roses  and 


Chapter  Three  41 

so  like  Rose  and  Mother  Letty  that  Larry  mar- 
veled. But  there  was  one  who  plainly  stood  the 
beauty  of  them  all,  Carol,  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
vividly  unlike  her  sisters,  sable  of  hair,  gypsy- 
red  of  cheek,  with  sloe-black  eyes  and  olive  skin 
like  her  father. 

The  whistling  twins  were  as  unmistakable  as 
they  were  inseparable,  mischief  dancing  eter- 
nally in  their  alert  brown  eyes.  With  charac- 
teristic energy  they  impressed  the  younger 
members  of  the  Doctor's  party  for  musical  duty 
across  the  hall  and  whistling  a  marching  duet 
headed  them  to  the  studio  door. 

Now  it  was  that  an  irresistible  temptation 
assailed  the  desperate  Doctor  —  to  leave  the 
responsibility  of  the  annual  studio  call  in  his 
wife's  hands  and  join  the  lads  and  lasses.  But 
when  at  last  he  artfully  contrived  to  get  himself 
so  entangled  that  in  the  course  of  time  he  would 
have  appeared  the  innocent  victim  of  an  enforced 
exodus  along  with  the  others,  it  was  Rodney  who 
recalled  him  by  begging  his  guileful  fellow- 
conspirators,  Bob  and  Larry,  not  to  crowd  the 
Doctor  so!  With  a  smothered  groan  that  barely 
escaped  detection  by  masquerading  as  a  cough, 
the  prisoner  returned  to  the  Throne  Chair  and 
glowered  fiercely  at  the  fire.  From  then  on  the 
"  crankous "  mood  was  decidedly  ascendant. 


42  The  Lovable  Meddler 

From  the  old  music  room  in  the  left  wing 
came  tantalizing  toots  and  booms  as  the  orches- 
tra assembled,  a  cheerful  hum  of  voices  and 
laughter,  an  occasional  A  on  the  old  piano  and 
eventually  the  strains  of  "  A  Spanish  Cavalier  " 
with  orchestral  obligate.  The  Doctor,  like  many 
another  usurper,  squirmed  uncomfortably  in  the 
Throne  Chair.  One  desire  alone  lured  with  its 
powerful  call  —  to  join  the  lads  and  lasses! 

"Just  hear  them  a-daffin'  about  over  there!" 
he  exclaimed  gloomily  and  Rodney,  who,  after 
roaming  about  the  room  like  a  badly  buffeted 
derelict,  had  come  to  sudden  anchor  in  Rose's 
deserted  chair  by  the  fire,  nodded  sympathet- 
ically. 

'Terrible,  isn't  it?"  he  queried  helplessly. 
"  Roderick,  you  can  not  imagine  what  I  suf- 
fer through  the  —  the  exuberance  of  my 
daughters ! " 

"  And  yet  he  is  so  patient,  Roderick,"  inter- 
posed Letty  with  shining  eyes,  "  so  very  patient 
with  it  all.  Never  a  word  to  the  girls,  and  really 
the  house  is  more  than  lively.  A  little  trying 
for  high-strung  nerves,  especially  when  one  must 
lay  upon  them  the  added  burden  of  creative 
work." 

"Hum!"  said  the  Doctor  unexpectedly,  and 
subsided. 


Chapter  Three  43 

"  Why  should  I  complain?  "  begged  .Rodney 
gently.  "  Youth,  I  take  it,  is  always  thought- 
less. Hedonistic,  all  of  us,  until  we  have  passed 
the  stage  of  adolescence." 

Thus  spoke  Rodney,  arch-disciple  surely  of 
hedonism  himself,  and  the  Doctor  fell  suddenly 
to  poking  at  the  fire  as  one  who  must  disinte- 
grate something  in  the  perversion  of  an  awaken- 
ing violence.  A  golden  shower  of  fire  flared 
cheerily  up  the  chimney,  lighting  up  Rodney's 
handsome  face  and  eyes  into  which  had  crept  a 
subtle  melancholy. 

"  Do  you  know,  Roderick,"  he  said  thought- 
fully, "  to  the  turbulence  of  my  home  atmos- 
phere this  summer  I  attribute  the  fact  that  I 
have  been  but  inqlifFerently  successful  with  my 
painting.  With  the  twins  graduating  from  the 
Academy  and  all  the  attendant  celebration  and 
excitement,  the  month  has  been  one  of  great 
perturbation.  Strange  how  the  events  of  an 
evening  creep  insistently  into  the  colors  I  use 
on  the  following  day.  For  instance,  Roderick," 
Rodney  leaned  forward  eagerly,  at  his  best  as 
ever  when  the  subject  was  himself,  "  the  last 
time  the  girls  were  singing  —  Letty,  dear,  will 
you  close  the  door?  Eileen's  contralto  is  a  bit 
boisterous.  And  the  young  man  with  the  oboe 
has  his  own  notions  about  harmony.  Er  —  the 


44  The  Lovable  Meddler 

last  time  they  sang  I  found  myself  working  the 
next  day  in  horrible  crimsons  and  purples,  a 
polychrome  whose  lights  and  shadows  clashed 
atrociously  even  as  the  sounds  of  the  night  before 
had  clashed.  Every  impression,  I  take  it,  lingers 
in  my  subconscious  mind,  which  is  perhaps 
unduly  sensitive,  to  be  translated  presently 
through  the  medium  of  color.  Though  to  the 
layman  it  may  appear  incredible,  I  can  trace  in 
my  work  the  effect  of  the  slightest  domestic 
mishap  or  unrest." 

How  much  Rodney  loved  to  dabble  in  self- 
analysis,  and  how  many  of  his  artistic  difficulties 
that  analysis  explained  away!  The  Doctor 
sniffed  —  a  sniff  that  happily  was  lost  in  a 
hasty  comment  of  his  wife's. 

"  Just  last  night,  for  instance,"  continued 
Rodney,  mercifully  unaware  of  the  volcanic 
crater  of  the  "  crankous  "  mood  upon  which  he 
trembled,  "  Mollie  —  dear  knows  how,  for  she 
is  decidedly  old  —  kicked  out  the  side  of  the 
barn  —  " 

"  No  doubt  Mollie  is  old,"  conceded  the 
Doctor,  clutching  at  the  single  portion  of  the 
narrative  to  which  he  could  cordially  accede, 
"  but,  man  Rodney,  the  barn  is  older! " 

"  Kicked  out  the  side  of  the  barn,"  went  on 
Rodney  patiently,  "  and  skipped  through  it  in 


Chapter  Three  45 

a  sudden  spasm  of  rejuvenation.  The  twins 
caught  her  after  a  quite  unnecessary  amount 
of  dancing  and  waving  their  arms  about 
and  whooping  wildly  —  odd,  Roderick,  they 
appeared  to  enjoy  it!  But  as  I  stood  there  by 
the  window  my  subconscious  mind  absorbed  that 
atmospheric  coloring  like  a  sensitized  photo- 
graphic plate.  An  old  white  horse  with  an 
angular  gallop,  a  ruined  barn  and  the  gray  of 
a  cloudy  twilight  —  salient  features,  forlorn  as 
you  see  —  and  to-day,  well,"  Rodney  sighed, 
"all  day  I  have  been  working  in  bisters!" 

"  Blisters?  "  queried  the  Doctor. 

Into  Rodney's  handsome  eyes  crept  a  faint 
reproach. 

"  Tonal  bisters!  "  he  corrected  gently. 

"Guid  faith!"  apologized  the  Doctor,  "I 
must  have  been  thinkin'  of  the  paintin'  of  a 
house  with  its  facility  for  blisters.  Doubtless 
my  subconscious  mind  was  takin'  it  for  granted 
that  ye  had  mended  the  barn  and  painted 
over  it." 

Again  an  electric  silence  fell  over  the  studio, 
for  when  before  in  the  royal  annals  had  King 
Rodney  heard  himself  mentioned  in  a  breath 
with  house  painting  and  barn  repairs!  Still, 
though  every  defiant  line  of  the  usurper  in  the 
Throne  Chair  betokened  an  expectant  wait  for 


46  The  Lovable  Meddler 

debatable  material,  to  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  intense 
relief  none  came. 

Altogether  the  evening  was  more  than  trying. 
Unfailingly  the  Doctor's  comments  were  unex- 
pected; unfailingly  King  Rodney,  no  matter 
how  circumvented,  returned  to  the  subject  of 
himself.  And  across  the  hallway  the  Doctor's 
lads  and  lasses  laughed  and  sang  and  the  Doctor 
himself  stared  with  gloomy  envy  at  the  door. 
Mrs.  Glenmuir  watched  the  grandfather's  clock 
in  an  agony  of  unrest  and  apprehension,  and 
Letty,  accustomed  to  a  life  of  back-patting, 
filled  the  conversational  gaps  of  electric  silence 
with  soothing  comments.  Stampeded  into  a  sort 
of  caloric  masterpiece  by  the  Doctor's  insistent 
pokering,  the  wood-fire  flamed  fiercely  up  the 
chimney.  Then  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  and  in 
the  very  climax  of  Rodney's  description  of  his 
mental  forces,  the  crankous  Doctor  fulfilled  his 
wife's  foreboding  and,  consistently  unexpected, 
fell  asleep. 

"  Such,  I  fancy,  is  the  psychology  of  inspira- 
tion," Rodney  declared,  then,  catching  the  gentle 
but  somewhat  throaty  gurgle  of  his  companion, 
stopped  in  hurt  surprise.  The  Doctor  awoke 
with  a  guilty  start  and  glanced  sharply  about 
the  room  as  if  aware  of  the  unfriendly  suspi- 
cions of  the  others. 


Chapter  Three  47 

"'Psychology  of  inspiration!'  '  he  snapped 
triumphantly  to  prove  by  the  iteration  that  his 
subconscious  mind  at  least  had  been  alert,  and 
Rodney  forthwith  ambled  back  to  his  pandect 
with  a  generous  smile.  Wonderfully  handsome 
he  looked  in  the  firelight,  wonderfully  con- 
vincing his  deep,  musical  voice  as  he  talked, 
and  the  Doctor,  annoyed  as  he  ever  was  when 
he  felt  the  insidious  appeal  of  the  man's  mag- 
netism, angrily  steeled  himself  to  ward  it  off. 
He  was  more  than  successful.  Sleepy  and  per- 
sistently crankous  as  the  Doctor  was,  Rodney's 
lances  of  magnetism  splintered  against  his  armor 
unheeded. 

"  I  tell  you,  Roderick,  a  man  of  genius  can 
not  be  judged  by  conventional  standards.  Con- 
cessions must  be  made  to  his  aesthetic  side.  Idio- 
syncrasies he  is  bound  to  have,  idiosyncrasies,  I 
say,  purely  temperamental,  which  in  no  way 
impair  his  gift  —  " 

But  here  the  Doctor  delivered  himself  of  a 
prodigious  "  Hum ! "  and  his  quaking  consort 
felt  that  now  at  last  he  was  about  to  disburden 
his  mind  for  all  time  upon  the  subject  of  artistic 
temperaments.  Baby  Tavia  saved  the  day. 
Seated  beside  the  Doctor,  she  had  been  relating 
an  involved  description  of  Cousin  Jim's  country 
pump,  accoutered  with  an  interesting  rotary 


48  The  Lovable  Meddler 

movement,  a  chain  leading  cisternward  and  a 
handle.  Now  in  the  lull  which  followed  the 
Doctor's  ominous  exclamation  she  laid  one  tiny, 
dimpled  hand  upon  the  Doctor's  knee. 

"  Now,  Doctor  Rod,"  she  demanded,  "  just 
why  does  Cousin  Jim  have  to  grind  his  water 
when  we  don't?"  and  the  general  spasm  of 
laughter  carried  the  evening  well  beyond  another 
danger-point. 

"  Roderick,"  ventured  Rodney  later  as  the 
Doctor  looked  at  the  clock  and  summoned  the 
truant  members  of  his  party,  "  perhaps  you'd 
better  send  me  some  more  of  my  medicine  in 
the  morning.  I  —  I  am  not  myself.  My 
nerves  —  " 

"  Pooh!  Pooh!  "  exclaimed  the  Doctor  bluntly. 
"Pooh!  Pooh!  Try  a  bit  of  barn  workf" 
But,  meeting  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  desperate  gaze 
he  added  lamely,  "  Verra  well,  man  Rodney, 
verra  well,  I'll  be  sendin'  ye  some  in  the 
mornin'."  And  the  Doctor  shook  hands  with 
Letty  and  followed  Rose  eagerly  to  the  door. 

Outside  Bob  counseled  an  egress  from  the 
Weston  grounds  by  the  driveway,  for  the  path 
to  the  gate  lay  between  hedges  which  dripped 
and  tossed  in  the  wind  and  rain,  and  the  party 
set  off  along  the  gravel  path  beneath  the  win- 
dows, with  the  Doctor  well  on  ahead  conducting 


Chapter  Three  49 

a  pedestrian  express  for  the  Hame  and  Flora's 
coffee.  Bob  glanced  drolly  at  the  others  and 
they  all  broke  suddenly  into  a  smothered  laugh 
of  reminiscence. 

"  Oh,  Jean!  "  groaned  Mrs.  Glenmuir.  "  I'm 
a  nervous  wreck.  If  I'd  only  known  just  what 
sort  of  thing  a  crankous  mood  is!  Larry,  what 
on  earth  is  he  doing  now? " 

The  Doctor,  plainly  scandalized,  had  planted 
himself  upon  the  lawn  beneath  the  studio  win- 
dows, where  a  flapping  shade  gave  periodic 
glimpses  of  the  room  beyond.  A  mental  picture 
of  medical  fingers  rapping  peremptorily  on  the 
screen  to  startle  Rodney  with  an  invisible  pur- 
veyor of  acrid  advice,  gave  wings  to  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir's  feet. 

"Oh,  Roderick,"  she  implored,  "Roderick!" 
but  the  Doctor  dabbed  at  his  wife  with  a  warn- 
ing hand. 

4  Whist,  Agnes,"  he  hissed  fiercely;  "  dinna  I 
know  well  enough  that  I  should  not  spy  upon 
them  —  that  it's  a  whig-ma-doodle  trick  and  all 
that?  If  ye  must  know  the  truth,  I  dinna  care 
a  boddle.  Agnes,  doubtless  ye  winna  bring 
yourself  to  believe  it,  but  Rodney's  been  restin' 
his  old  noddle  back  in  the  Throne  Chair  while 
Letty  took  off  his  collar  and  that  plaid  sash  he 
calls  an  artist's  cravat!" 


50  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Again  the  shade  flapped  back  and  the  Doctor 
stared. 

"  God  bless  my  soul,  Agnes,"  he  whispered, 
aghast,  "  Letty's  takin'  off  the  bluntie's  shoes!  " 

This  final  glimpse  of  Mother  Letty  kneeling 
to  remove  the  royal  shoes  was  too  much  for  the 
Doctor.  With  a  snort  of  unutterable  disgust, 
he  charged  off  across  the  lawn  homewards,  fol- 
lowed by  a  panic-stricken  escort  fearful  of  detec- 
tion. At  the  street  he  halted. 

"  Agnes,"  he  began  in  considerable  excite- 
ment, "  I  just  must  express  my  opinion  of  that 
conceited  gowk  to  all  of  ye,  and  I  would  con- 
sider it  a  verra  great  favor  if  ye  would  kindly 
refrain  from  headin'  me  off  the  subject  as  ye 
so  often  do.  Blether  a  bit  I  will,  no  matter 
what,  and  if  ye  all  wish  to  desert  me,  I  will 
grumble  to  myself  1"  And  with  their  prompt 
chorus  of  allegiance,  the  storm  broke. 

"  Guid  faith ! "  he  finished,  "  the  man  has 
megascope  eyes!" 

"  Megascope  eyes ! "  gasped  Jean,  stifling 
her  laughter. 

"Megascope  eyes!"  nodded  the  Doctor 
shortly.  "  And,  Jeannie,  dinna  ye  laugh  up 
your  sleeve  at  your  poor  old  father.  'Tis  not 
respectful."  There  was  a  significant  silence  and 
the  Doctor  sniffed. 


Chapter  Three  51 

"Dinna  any  of  ye  know  what  a  megascope 
is?"  he  demanded.  There  was  a  profound 
silence. 

"  Some  kind  of  magic  lantern  arrangement 
for  throwing  enlarged  images  on  a  screen,  isn't 
it  ? "  suggested  Grant  Dallinger  hopefully. 

"There  ye  have  it!"  proclaimed  the  Doctor 
with  a  snort  of  acrid  satisfaction.  "  Small  as 
the  shameless  man's  guid  sense  and  character 
and  ability  may  be,  to  say  nothing  at  all  of  his 
baby  brain,  with  his  handsome  megascope  eyes 
he  throws  such  an  enormous  image  of  them  all 
upon  the  screen  of  his  fancy  that  it  just  fair 
dazzles  him!  'Tis  no  wonder  he  canna  perceive 
what  a  sorry  figure  he's  cuttin'  with  the  rest  of 
us." 

'  You're  a  little  hard  on  the  royal  brain," 
suggested  Jean,  pouring  oil  upon  the  fire. 
"I've  heard  lots  of  people  say  he's  a  very  deep 
thinker." 

"  Jeannie,  don't !  "  begged  Mrs.  Glenmuir. 

But  the  Doctor,  relieved  by  his  spasm,  was 
drifting  back  into  rare  good  humor. 

"  Aweel,  dear  lass,"  he  said  quaintly,  "  in  the 
great  kirk  of  words  we  call  Expression  there 
are,  I  take  it,  two  ministers:  Mr.  Ambiguity 
and  Mr.  Deep-Thought.  I  canna  help  thinkin' 
that  many  and  many  a  time  they  change  pulpits 


52  The  Lovable  Meddler 

without  the  congregation  suspectin'  the  differ- 
ence."   And  with  a  wry  grimace  he  finished: 

"  We  wander  there,  we  wander  here 
We  eye  the  rose  upon  the  brier, 
Unmindful  that  the  thorn  is  near 
Among  the  leaves!" 

:<  Thorn!"  exclaimed  Jean  loyally. 

"  Nay,  lass,"  broke  in  the  Doctor  warmly,  "  I 
did  not  mean  there's  any  thorn  to  the  dear 
Leddy  Rose.  Bless  your  heart,  no!  I  had 
reference  as  usual  to  the  family  rose-tree.  I 
wonder,"  he  added  slyly,  "  just  what  colors 
Rodney  will  be  usin'  in  his  work  to-morrow  after 
the  atmospheric  tints  of  to-night !  " 

Whatever  the  colors  through  which  it  was 
expressed,  Rodney's  subconscious  and  conscious 
mind  alike  never  forgot  that  astonishing  and 
nerve-racking  night  when  the  crankous  Doctor 
usurped  the  dynastic  rights  to  the  Throne  Chair, 
fell  asleep  in  the  very  heart  of  the  royal 
monologue  and  pooh-poohed  the  royal  nerves! 
In  after  years  he  fancied  that  it  presaged  that 
unforgettable  train  of  events  which  were  des- 
tined to  alter  so  greatly  the  nature  of  his 
domestic  caliphate. 


Chapter  4 

Concerns  itself  with  a  midnight  chat,  a  pot  of 
coffee  and  a  doctor's  book 

OUTSIDE  the  Hame  o'  Roses  the  Doctor's 
party  halted. 

"  In  with  ye  all,"  commanded  the  Doctor. 
"  Flora's  guid  coffee  will  warm  the  chill  away." 

But  Bob  said  he  was  sleepy  and  would  move 
on  home,  and  the  others  trailed  after  him, 
whistling. 

'Tis  a  matter  of  three  nights,  Larry,"  hinted 
the  Doctor,  "  since  ye  dropped  in  for  one  of  our 
midnight  gossips  over  Flora's  coffee  —  " 

"  Gossip  with  your  medical  friend  if  you 
like!"  called  Quin  Courtney.  "Myself,  I  need 
beauty  sleep.  And  Grant  needs  it  more  than 
I,  though  he  wouldn't  admit  it." 

"Medical  friend,  eh!"  beamed  the  Doctor. 
"  I  like  that.  'Tis  nothing  at  all  to  be  an  uncle, 
Larry.  Ye  canna  help  yourself.  'Tis  much 
to  be  a  friend.  Nice  lads,  all  of  them,"  he  added 
as  Grant  was  led  off  grumbling  by  Quin.  "  I 
dinna  think,  Larry,  lad,  I  have  ever  seen  such 
grand  guid  fellowship.  Grant  and  Quin  bicker 

53 


54  The  Lovable  Meddler 

with  each  other  like  a  pair  of  crows.  And  I 
would  I  were  a  caricaturist  to  sketch  in  Jerry's 
lean  length  when  he  walks  between  the  lazy,  fat 
lads.  No  gainsayin'  it,  Norm  and  Roger  are  in 
mortal  need  of  exercise." 

He  led  the  way  into  an  old-fashioned  office 
in  which  an  air  of  comfort  dwarfed  the  fearsome 
dignity  of  an  X-ray  machine  and  a  closet  of 
drugs,  quoting: 

"  Braw,  braw  lads  on  Yarrow  braes, 
They  rove  among  the   blooming   heather; 
But  Yarrow  braes  nor  Ettrick  shaws 
Can  match  the  lads  of  Galla  Water! 

"Hum.  ...  •  .  .  So  ye  fancy  ye  and 
Jeannie  will  go  on  up  to  bed,, eh,  Agnes?"  as 
Scotch  Flora  appeared  in  the  doorway  with  the 
Doctor's  nightly  coffee.  '  Well,  suit  yourself, 
dear  lass.  Myself  I  canna  resist  Flora's  coffee." 
And  bustling  about,  the  Doctor  pushed  forward 
a  box  of  his  atrocious  cigars.  They  were  smil- 
ingly declined,  an  unvarying  occurrence  among 
the  initiate. 

"  I  might  have  guessed  it,  ye  young  Sybarite!  " 
he  grumbled  good-humoredly.  "  Aweel,  maybe 
ye'll  find  one  of  these  more  to  your  likin'.  Old 
Bob  brought  'em  with  him  last  night  to  smoke 


Chapter  Four  55 

through  the  cribbagin'.  Like  his  tongue,  his 
taste  is  a  wee  bit  critical.  Deil  take  it,  Larry, 
I  canna  find  your  cup.  Flora  will  not  remember 
to  leave  it  here  on  the  desk  beside  my  own. 
Ah!"  the  Doctor  unearthed  a  huge  cup  and 
filled  it  to  the  brim.  "  Now,  laddie,  we  can  hob- 
nob together  until  cockcrow  if  we  have  a  mind 
to,  provided  the  Leddy  Glenmuir  does  not  rap 
upon  the  floor.  Well,  Larry,  what  did  ye  think 
of  the  Westons?" 

"  I  doubt  if  I  have  ever  seen  a  happier  family. 
A  girl's  laughter  lurks  in  every  crevice  of  the 
old  house  like  the  scent  of  pine  in  a  forest. 
Their  good-fellowship  is  irresistible." 

"  Happy!  I  would  have  ye  find  me  their 
equal  in  congeniality.  Why,  Larry,  ye  canna 
tempt  the  lasses  away  from  home  of  an  evenin' 
no  matter  what  ye  may  offer.  With  their 
readin'  aloud  together  and  their  studyin'  and 
singin'  of  nights,  they're  as  clannish  as  our  own 
Highlanders.  A  delightful,  capable,  all-suffi- 
cient, man-ignorin'  clan!  The  lads  of  Auburnia 
could  tell  ye  many  a  tale  of  fruitless  chasin' 
after  the  Weston  lasses." 

Rising,  he  took  down  a  heavy  volume  from  a 
shelf  above  his  desk  and  traced  a  page  of  records 
with  his  forefinger. 

"  Larry,  ye  couldn't  have  come  to  a  better 


56  The  Lovable  Meddler 

botanist  to  label  your  pretty  flowers.  Didn't  I 
myself  bring  all  the  Weston  bairnies  into  the 
world,  beginnin'  with  the  dear  Leddy  Rose  her- 
self when  I  had  but  just  hung  out  my  shingle  in 
Auburnia  to  please  your  Aunt  Agnes?  . 
Hum.  .  .  .  Rose  —  "  his  keen  eyes  flashed 
humorously.  "  I  take  it  the  lass  has  told  ye  her 
age  already,  Larry?  'Tis  a  disconcertin'  way 
she  has  when  the  lads  bother  her;  and  twenty- 
eight  to  Leddy  Rose's  notions  is  a  venerable  and 
prohibitive  age." 

Larry's  tell-tale  face  was  answer  enough  and 
the  Doctor  turned  back  to  his  book  of  medical 
hieroglyphics  with  a  chuckle  of  enjoyment. 

"  Rose-Marie,"  he  read  reminiscently,  a  gentle 
homage  in  his  deep  voice  for  his  favorite 
Weston ;  "so  Letty  named  the  lass  when  we 
saw  her  face.  Ah,  Larry,"  the  Doctor  wheeled, 
his  eyes  moist  with  affection,  "  savin'  my  own 
golden-eyed  Jeannie,  I  have  never  seen  such  a 
wee  flower  face  as  God  gave  the  bebby  Rose. 
And  Mother  Letty,  straightway  she  would  have 
the  bairn  called  Rose  —  *  Rose '  for  the  wee 
floweret  itself,  she  said,  and  '  Rose-Marie '  for 
the  fragrance  ye  just  canna  help  thinkin'  of 
when  ye  say  it  all.  Ah,  smart  as  they  all  are, 
there's  none  of  the  lasses  as  brainy  as  the  dear 
Leddy  Rose!  No,  'tis  not  all  my  partiality  for 


Chapter  Four  57 

the  lass,  Larry.  Did  she  not  go  to  college  with 
my  own  Jeannie  and  finish  the  course  a  guid 
year  ahead  of  them  all  with  an  A.  M.  degree? 
Hum!  she  was  needed  at  home  to  help  with  the 
motherin'  of  Rodney.  A.  M ! "  added  the  Doc- 
tor tartly.  "  The  lass  did  not  know  it  would 
come  to  mean  *  Assistant  Mother.' ' 

The  Doctor  adjusted  his  reading  glasses  and 
studied  the  records  again  in  absorbed  attention. 

"  Come  a  year  later  we  have  Sonia  with  her 
broad  white  brow  and  her  keen  eyes,  editor  now 
of  the  Fashion  Review;  and  after  two  years, 
Marcia,  Mother  Letty's  private  secretary.  Then 
two  years  more  and  there  were  the  twins, 
Eileen  and  Lucia.  Guid  faith,  Larry,  the  Wes- 
ton  twins,  what  with  their  whistlin'  duets,  their 
fencin'  and  swimmin'  and  trampin'  about  the 
country  in  sweaters  like  two  rompin'  lads,  are 
as  deil-may-care  a  pair  as  ye'll  find."  And  the 
Doctor  with  a  hopeless  shake  of  his  head  passed 
on  to  the  final  trio  of  Rodney's  daughters,  June, 
aged  twenty,  Carol  seventeen  and  Tavia  seven. 

"  June  is  the  musician  of  them  all  and  Carol 
is  but  a  braw  young  lassie  still  in  school,  but 
she's  keen  and  bright  like  all  the  rest  and  to 
boot  a  bit  restless  and  high-strung.  Verra  hand- 
some, too,  like  Aunt  Ann,  her  father's  sister 
who  does  not  come  frequent  to  Auburnia,  I  sus- 


58  The  Lovable  Meddler 

pect  because  she  has  no  great  respect  for  her 
brother,  small  blame  to  her.  With  her  moun- 
tain-climbing and  her  grand  guid  self-reliance 
Ann  should  have  been  the  man  of  the  pair  — 
and  is.  Octavia,"  he  finished,  "  eighth  born  and, 
please  God,  the  last!  Smart  lasses  all  of  them 
but  I've  a  notion  the  Weston  lasses  all  take  their 
keen  brains  from  the  maternal  grandfather  and 
the  mother  —  " 

"The  grandfather  then  was  unusual?" 

"  A  keen  man.  A  scholar  and  a  financier.  It 
was  actin'  as  his  private  secretary  as  a  lass  that 
gave  Letty  her  trainin'  in  Wall  Street." 

'  Wall  Street !     You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
the  little  woman  is  in  Wall  Street ! " 

"  I  do  that !  "  nodded  the  Doctor.  "  A  broker. 
Rain  or  snow,  ye  may  find  her  commutin'  hither 
and  tither  with  Marcia,  and  in  all  Wall  Street 
ye  winna  find  a  man  who  does  not  hold  her  high. 
Ask  Davy  Gordon  —  ye  mind  meetin'  him  here, 
Larry,  at  my  rose-party?  Private  secretary  to 
the  President  of  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  he  is 
—  he'll  tell  ye  what  they  think  of  her.  . 
Coffee,  Larry?  .  .  .  Hum,  'tis  well  ye 
don't.  The  pot's  empty.  Well,  laddie,  there  ye 
have  the  Westons,  Letty  and  all  her  leesome 
brood  and  that  gowk  of  a  Rodney.  Marcia  and 
Sonia  ye  will  find  a  practical,  matter-of-fact 


Chapter  Four  59 

pair,  runnin'  mostly  to  head;  and  June  and 
Carol  afire  with  temperament  —  runnin'  mostly 
to  heart.  The  twins  are  in  a  class  by  themselves. 
And  Mother  Rose  takes  care  of  them  all. 

"  I  mind  me  of  King  Rodney's  birthday 
night.  Larry,  with  my  own  two  eyes,  a-drivin' 
by  the  windows  with  Peggy,  I  saw  the  lasses 
crown  him  with  flowers  and  dance  merrily  about 
him  to  a  whistled  march  by  the  twins,  showerin' 
him  with  birthday  gifts  and  flowers  —  all  in 
their  pretty  white  gowns  in  celebration,  mind 
ye,  and  the  King  himself  in  evenin'  clothes  for 
the  coronation,  with  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  his 
hand.  Oh,  my,  my,  my,  yes,  Larry!  'Tis  a 
verra  great  day  with  the  Westons,  though  I 
dinna  think  the  state  as  a  whole  observes  it  yet. 
Best  silver,  flowers  upon  the  chandeliers  and 
mantels,  best  Sunday  furbelows  and  Rodney's 
favorite  dishes,  all  cooked  by  the  Leddy  Rose 
herself. 

"  Ah,  Larry,"  the  Doctor  returned  to  an 
encomium  of  his  favorite  as  a  bee  seeks  the  sweet- 
est flower,  "  ye  just  canna  conceive  how  cheer- 
fully the  dear  lass  slipped  into  her  mother's 
place  at  home;  and  she  was  not  without  ambi- 
tious dreamies  of  her  own  I  take  it  from  what 
my  Jeannie  has  told  me  of  college  days.  I 
dinna  think  any  of  the  Weston  lasses  realize  how 


60  The  Lovable  Meddler 

much  each  day  they  owe  to  Mother  Rose's  busy 
fingers.  She  is  so  swift  and  sweet  and  tireless 
with  her  sunny  heart  and  her  winsome  smile  and 
her  busy  forethought  for  them  all,  God  bless 
the  lass!" 

The  Doctor  rose  abruptly. 

'  Virgil  may  sing  of  his  Dido's  slighted  love," 
he  added  fiercely,  "  and  Dante  of  his  Inferno, 
but,  Larry,  I  would  have  some  poet  sing  for  me 
the  tragedy  of  the  older  sister.  Ye  will  not 
find  more  unassumin'  sacrifice,  I  take  it,  than 
the  mothering  sister  in  the  home,  too  busy  to  be 
young!"  He  glanced  searchingly  at  his 
nephew's  face.  "  Larry,  your  old  uncle  canna 
help  bein'  meddlesome.  I  dinna  wish  to  pester 
ye  with  my  curiosity,  lad,  but  — "  he  halted, 
his  kindly  eyes  significant. 

Larry  colored. 

"Yes?  "he  said. 

'  Well,  dear  lad,  ye  seemed  verra  much  taken 
up  with  the  Leddy  Rose  and  I  could  not  help 
speakin'  of  it,  I'm  so  mortal  fond  of  the  lass 
myself.  Ye  dinna  mind  my  speakin'  so, 
Larry? " 

"Certainly  not!"  The  response  was  so 
hearty  that  the  Doctor  looked  relieved.  "  Ever 
since  I  saw  her  that  night  in  the  moonlight  and 
roses  —  we  came  face  to  face  in  the  garden, 


Chapter  Four  61 

strangers,  the  night  of  your  rose-party,"  he 
explained,  while  the  Doctor  wisely  looked  away, 
"  and  she  was  so  frank  and  friendly,  so  utterly 
at  her  ease  —  " 

"  Ye  winna  ever  find  the  coquettish  challenge 
of  sex  in  Leddy  Rose's  eyes,  Larry;  only  the 
cordial  fire  of  friendliness  and  impulse  and  an 
immortal  cheeriness." 

Larry  nodded. 

"  I  know.  Her  composure  rather  staggered 
me,  it  was  so  unaffected.  '  I'm  quite  sure  you're 
Larry,'  she  said.  *  You've  Glenmuir  eyes ! ' 
Somehow  I  can't  forget  the  quaint  winsomeness 
of  her,  standing  there  so  slim  and  white  among 
the  roses,  holding  out  her  hands  to  me  with  the 
sweet  naturalness  of  a  child." 

"  Larry,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor  impetuously, 
"  ye  dinna  mean  that  ye  fell  head  over  kerturby 
in  love  with  the  lass  at  the  sight  of  her!  Hum!  " 
his  eyes  keen  with  delight.  "  Laddie,  I  can  see 
by  the  verra  flush  of  ye  that  I  have  struck  the 
truth.  Ah,  'tis  ever  the  Glenmuir  way.  With 
us  love  is  not  cumulative.  It  comes  in  bulk.  So 
it  was  with  your  father  before  ye,  Larry,  and 
so  with  me.  Did  I  not  catch  a  wee  glimpsie  of 
your  Aunt  Agnes  tourin'  in  Glasgow  when  I 
had  but  just  got  my  degree  in  the  University,  a 
young  deil  of  a  sawbones  scallawaggin'  about, 


62  The  Lovable  Meddler 

and  did  I  not  straightway  follow  the  lass  back 
to  America  and  pester  her  betimes  with  my  big 
talk  of  kidnappin'  and  suicide  and  the  like  of 
that  until  she  eloped  with  me  away  from  that 
griffin  of  an  Aunt  Harriet,  who  always  called 
me  a  wild  tormentin'  Scotchiel  A  Glenmuir  is 
a  wild  Highlander  in  his  heart  for  all  time, 
Larry,  and  he  canna  down  it."  And  eloquently 
he  quoted: 

"  Oj  wert  thou  in  the  cauld  blast 
On  yonder  lea,  on  yonder  lea, 
My  plaidie  to  the  angry  airt, 
I'd  shelter  ihee,  I'd  shelter  thee! 

"  And  so  it  is  with  all  of  us  when  once  we 
glimpse  the  leddy." 

"It  —  it  all  came  into  my  life  so  unexpect- 
edly," said  Larry.  "  And  Rose  is  so  —  well,  so 
different.  How  long  — "  he  floundered  boy- 
ishly —  "  how  soon  —  " 

The  Doctor  came  promptly  and  heartily  to 
the  rescue. 

'  Ye  mean  how  long  ye  would  have  to  coort 
the  lass,  Larry?  " 

'  Yes."  Larry's  searching  glance  found  the 
Doctor's  eyes  as  keen  and  kindly  as  always,  and 
ready  sympathy  rang  in  his  voice. 


Chapter  Four  63 

"  Bless  your  heart,  laddie,  'tis  no  easy  ques- 
tion. I  canna  say  ye  have  picked  a  guid  adviser. 
If  I  told  my  own  ideas  abroad,  I  would  doubt- 
less have  all  the  lads  of  Auburnia  kidnappin' 
the  lass  of  their  fancy  upon  sight.  Maybe  a 
year,  Larry,  would  keep  the  gossipin'  tongues 
about  from  clackin'." 

The  cathedral  clock  boomed  two.  With  a 
start  Larry  rose  to  go. 

"  Larry,"  the  Doctor  patted  his  nephew's 
back  with  frank  affection,  "  I  just  canna  tell 
ye  how  it  all  pleases  me.  God  grant  ye  will  not 
find  any  thorn  to  the  wooin'  of  your  pretty  rose. 
I  would  not  have  ye  wounded." 

And  this  was  still  upon  the  Doctor's  mind 
when,  in  his  bedtime  tour  of  inspection,  he  came 
upon  Scotch  Jamie,  dozing  in  the  kitchen. 

"Whist,  Jamie,"  he  said  sternly;  "to  bed 
with  ye  I "  And  then  in  a  cautious  undertone, 
'  Wake  a  bit,  lad.  Ye  mind  how  I  showed  ye 
the  way  to  let  the  wind  out  from  the  auto  tire? 
.  Well,  I  would  have  ye  do  that  again 
before  ye  go  up  to  bed.  Dinna  be  noisy  and 
dinna  gab  to  Flora.  Give  the  thingumaderry 
on  the  rim  a  push.  I  winna  feel  like  breezin* 
about  so  lively  after  callin'  and  gossipin'  so  late, 
and  I  canna  take  old  Peggy  again  if  that  deil 
of  a  car's  in  guid  workin'  order.  Be  verra  cau- 


64  The  Lovable  Meddler 

tious,  Jamie,  verra  cautious,  for  I've  been  sus- 
pected a  bit  of  inventin'  disorders  in  my  gasoline 
horsie  to  get  me  out  doctorin'  behind  Peggy. 
And,  Jamie,  dinna  ye  forget  to  come  in  at 
breakfast  with  'em  all  listening  and  tell  me  the 
tire  is  flat." 


Chapter  5 
The  wooing  of  Rose 

IT  was  altogether  perhaps  the  oddest  wooing 
a  girl  ever  had.  Never  a  word  of  the  turbu- 
lence surging  in  the  heart  of  her  Highland  lover, 
never  a  forgotten  moment  when  the  diffident 
pressure  of  a  hand  might  have  hinted  much. 
For  over  many  a  midnight  pot  of  coffee,  with 
the  winter  wind  rattling  the  old  Hame  and  the 
log  blazing  up  the  chimney,  Larry  had  been 
bound  again  and  again  to  his  full  year  of  silence 
which,  like  the  old-fashioned  gentleman  he  was, 
he  scrupulously  observed  even  while  deploring 
the  avuncular  promise  that  bound  him  to  it. 

Still,  as  Larry  often  conceded,  the  Doctor, 
with  his  keener  insight  into  the  selfless  heart  of 
his  favorite,  was  right.  Rose  and  her  home  life 
were  unparalleled  in  his  experience.  She  was 
the  tireless  pivot  of  a  domestic  abnormality 
whose  possible  crotchets  one  could  not  possibly 
hope  to  gauge.  A  careless  word,  a  sudden 
awakening  into  the  life  of  self  which  Larry's 
love  must  bring  with  it,  and  with  frightened 
wings  Rose  would  be  up  and  away,  guarding  her 

65 


66  The  Lovable  Meddler 

dependent  family  brood  from  the  invasion  of 
any  dawning  personal  desire. 

"  Nay,  laddie,"  advised  the  Doctor  kindly, 
"  ye  must  just  contrive  to  manage  your  telltale 
eyes  and  your  fretsome  tongue  until  the  bonny 
roses  come  again.  'Tis  not  so  long  that  ye  must 
glower  at  the  fire!  With  the  dear  Leddy  Rose, 
'tis  best  to  let  this  great  disease  of  love  creep 
insidiously  into  her  over-crowded  heart  without 
the  patient  at  all  suspectin'.  Then  with  the 
grace  of  God  it  may  grow  and  grow  until  at 
last  it  has  become  quite  incurable.  Mark  ye, 
Larry,  if  ye  wake  the  lass  up  in  the  early 
stages,  she  will  not  rest  until  she  is  quite  cured 
and  maybe  immune !  And  please  God,  laddie,  I 
would  not  have  ye  find  any  thorn  to  your  pretty 
rose,  as  I've  told  ye  before." 

Thus  ran  the  Doctor's  quaint  medical  meta- 
phor; and  Larry  disciplined  eyes  and  tongue 
in  loyal  deference  to  his  uncle's  will.  Only  his 
cello  sang  at  times  what  his  lips  unwillingly 
withheld,  crooning  forth  a  subtle  courtship  of 
its  own. 

Keenly  alive  to  the  congenial  atmosphere  of 
the  old  Weston  house,  with  its  many  rooms 
and  its  many  wood-fires,  Larry  liked  best  to 
play  in  the  firelight  when,  with  the  ruddy  leap 
and  crack  of  the  blazing  log,  the  shadows  about 


Chapter  Five  67 

the  old-fashioned  music  room  twisted  and 
changed  in  contour  and  fled  at  last  in  a  panic, 
only  to  cluster  somberly  again  in  the  corners 
when  the  fire  died  down.  Wind  and  rain  and 
sleet  might  tap  with  ghostly  ice-fingers  at  the 
old  checkerboard  windows;  gnarled,  ice-hung 
branches  might  brush  eerily  against  the  glass  in 
wistful  envy  of  the  ruddy  warmth  it  framed; 
but  the  rapt  musicians  in  the  old  room  played 
on,  oblivious  alike  to  the  wind  and  the  dying 
fire,  the  warm  brown  eyes  of  the  tireless  player 
at  the  piano  fixed  thoughtfully  upon  the  por- 
trait of  Great- Aunt  Felicia  and  her  harp,  dimly 
visible  on  the  wall  before  her;  the  somber  eyes 
of  the  cellist  fixed  unwaveringly  upon  the  fire- 
rimmed  figure  of  the  girl  who  with  an  inborn 
sense  of  the  artistic,  clung  to  a  pretty  custom 
of  wearing  the  softer  gowns  of  the  summer 
through  the  indoor  hours  of  the  winter.  Even 
the  ubiquitous  fire-elves  caught  the  winsome 
charm  of  this  fair-haired,  brown-eyed  player, 
for  they  clustered  thickly  about  her  skirts  and 
hair  in  a  dancing  retinue  which  to  a  casual 
watcher  might  have  seemed  but  the  restless 
shadows  of  the  fire. 

Beethoven  and  Wagner  lived  and  lived  again 
in  this  quiet,  firelit  room,  the  melodic  envoys  of 
many  a  revelation  that  would  have  brought  the 


68  The  Lovable  Meddler 

swift  color  to  Rose's  cheek  had  she  but  under- 
stood the  language  of  Larry's  skillful  bow. 
And  many  a  song  of  the  olden  day  sighed 
plaintively  from  the  strings  its  sympathy  for 
this  rebellious  lover  of  another  day. 

"  Sweet  and  Low,"  "  In  the  Gloaming," 
"Love's  Old  Sweet  Song,"  and  "Ben  Bolt," 
"Alice,  Where  Art  Thou?"  and  "Larboard 
Watch,  Ahoy ! "  one  by  one  these  old  favorites 
enveloped  the  music  room  with  an  atmosphere 
of  old-time  romance  of  which  Mother  Rose 
herself  was  the  fitting  heart  and  inspiration. 

It  was  the  older  songs  that  Rose  liked  best, 
playing  them  with  an  impersonal  tenderness 
that  Larry  could  not  understand.  It  piqued 
him  that  Rose  did  not  feel  the  irresistible  surge 
of  depression  which  their  music  awoke  in  him. 
And  even  while  he  sighed,  Rose  turned  many 
a  time  from  the  old  piano  to  the  fire  with  a 
cheerful  laugh. 

'  What  improvident  musicians  we  are,  Larry! 
See,  the  fire  is  quite  down  to  embers.  And  how 
very  solemn  you  are  to-night!" 

Then  Larry  would  straightway  bustle  about 
the  fireplace  as  if  the  fire  were  his  only  thought, 
adding  another  white  birch  log,  prodding  the 
lazy  embers  from  a  slumbrous  glow  into  momen- 
tary sparks  of  wakefulness  and  flushing  hotly  if 


Chapter  Five  69 

the  gown  or  hair  of  his  deft  assistant  brushed 
ever  so  lightly  against  his  hands. 

And  the  fire-elves  hibernating  in  the  birch 
log  burst  gleefully  forth  to  congregate  thickly 
in  the  chimney  and  —  alas !  —  to  gossip. 

"  What  manner  of  girl  anyway  is  this  Mother 
Rose,"  they  demanded  indignantly,  "  that  these 
wonderful  old  love  songs  do  not  open  her  eyes? 
Here  is  our  handsome  young  Highland  friend, 
Black-Hair-and-Blue-Eyes,  as  Friend  Flameo 
there  calls  him,  fairly  sighing  his  heart  out 
for  her  through  his  cello  in  a  most  romantic 
atmosphere  of  firelight,  and  still  she  does  not 
understand!  Why,  Great  Fire-snakes!  have  we 
not  heard  him  play  the  '  Moonlight  Sonata ' 
until  the  veriest  Philistine  must  guess  his  mean- 
ing? "  And  Spark,  a  visiting  elf  from  the 
Doctor's  chimney,  offered  an  explanation  with 
a  malicious  imitation  of  the  Doctor's  own 
accent. 

"  Remember,"  said  he  with  a  boisterous 
chuckle,  "  the  Leddy  Rose  is  verra  different 
from  all  others! " 

Rarely  until  these  firelit  hours  with  Larry 
had  Rose  found  time  to  indulge  her  natural 
aptitude  for  music,  but  now  an  early  girlhood 
skill  came  readily  back  to  her  ever-quick  and 
dexterous  fingers.  As  this  unforgettable  winter 


70  The  Lovable  Meddler 

crept  slowly  on,  Larry  watched  the  quiet  player 
at  the  old  piano  with  a  new  interest.  Quick 
and  retentive  of  memory,  with  but  occasional 
recourse  to  the  printed  page  before  her,  dimly 
visible  in  the  fire-glow,  Rose  played  as  she  lived, 
with  a  sympathy  so  warm  and  true  that  one 
never  doubted  its  sincerity.  Tender  and  tranquil 
the  melody  might  be,  or  a  vari-colored  sparkle 
of  agitato,  but  underlying  it  all  Larry  always 
fancied  he  caught  the  eternal  croon  of  the  girl's 
unfailing  altruism. 

What  wonder  then  that  the  string  quartette 
soon  caught  the  charm  and  sympathy  of  her 
music  and  begged  an  occasional  memorable 
evening  with  this  friendly  and  willing  accom- 
panist? But  the  occasions  were  few.  The 
Doctor,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  discouraged 
them. 

Whenever  the  song  of  Larry's  cello  swept 
eloquently  out  from  the  music  room,  a  tacit 
understanding  among  King  Rodney's  daughters 
left  the  absorbed  players  free  from  any 
exuberant  invasion. 

Oh,  blind  and  selfless  Mother  Rose! 

Presently  even  King  Rodney  sensed  the 
discriminating  attitude  of  the  others  and  grew 
elaborately  stealthy  when  the  cello  played  in 
the  music  room,  but  Nemesis  had  decreed  that 


Chapter  Five  71 

Rodney  should  always  upset  clatterable  objects 
when  he  wished  to  avoid  attention  and  wait 
upon  himself,  and  that  Rose's  quick  ears  should 
always  catch  the  clatter  and  help  the  protesting 
caliph  to  the  finding  of  his  own. 

Only  the  Doctor  was  permitted  to  break  the 
friendly  ruling  of  the  household.  There  were 
nights  \vhen  he  popped  in  unexpectedly, 
medicine  case  in  hand,  and  demanded  the 
performance  of  "  Robin  Adair,"  "  The  Bluebells 
of  Scotland,"  "  Comin'  Through  the  Rye,"  and 
"  Annie  Laurie."  And  there  was  still  another 
favorite,  an  old  forgotten  firelight  song  which 
the  Doctor  found  so  harmonious  with  the  time 
and  place  that  he  needs  must  quote  it  softly 
under  his  breath  with  many  an  approving  look 
about  him  and  many  a  nod  of  his  grizzled  head 
as  if  this  delightful  atmosphere  were  quite  of 
his  own  making. 

''  The  shadows  lie  across  the  dim  old  room, 
The  firelight  glows  and  fades  into  the  gloom. 

"  Laddie,"  he  began  wistfully  one  night  over 
his  midnight  coffee  at  the  Hame,  "  ye  dinna 
mind  your  old  uncle  poppin'  in  so  unexpected 
upon  your  musical  sweetheartin'  with  the  dear 
Leddy  Rose,  eh?  I  just  canna  seem  to  get 


72  The  Lovable  Meddler 

old  Peggy  by  the  place  with  the  firelight 
reflections  on  the  windows  and  all  your  music 
soundin'  so  clear  through  the  winter  air.  Why, 
Larry,  with  yourself  a-bowin'  away  so  earnest 
on  the  big  fiddle  and  lookin'  so  verra  like  a 
lover  in  a  book  of  romance,  and  the  dear  Leddy 
Rose  at  the  old  piano  with  the  bright  firelight 
upon  her  pretty  sunny  hair  and  that  trailin' 
gown  which  just  makes  my  old  noddle  think  of 
driftin'  apple  blossoms,  'tis  such  a  picture  as  a 
man  canna  verra  well  forget.  The  two  of  ye,  I 
just  must  tell  ye,  lad,  look  verra  well  together, 
verra  well  indeed!"  And  enormous  satisfac- 
tion lurked  in  the  final  phrase. 

Larry,  scanning  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
office  with  the  fire's  fitful  unveiling  of  the 
Doctor's  fads  and  fancies,  thought  the  old- 
fashioned  room  as  kindly  as  its  owner  and  felt 
his  heart  surge  with  renewed  loyalty  to  this 
quaint,  warm-hearted,  boyish  Scot  who  was 
father  and  uncle  and  friend  to  him  in  one. 

"  Laddie,"  cautioned  the  Doctor  one  other 
night,  "  ye  must  not  play  again  as  ye  have 
played  to-night  until  your  year  is  quite  up. 
Guid  faith,  I  canna  forget  it ! "  And  the 
Doctor  stared  musingly  into  the  fire  as  if  he 
heard  again  the  eloquent  crescendo  of  his 
nephew's  cello,  though  the  only  sounds  about 


Chapter  Five  73 

were  the  crackle  of  the  log  and  the  sough  of  the 
wind  in  the  chimney. 

Very  frank  these  quaint  and  kindly  comments 
upon  his  nephew's  odd  courtship,  but  Larry 
always  understood,  and  the  dancing,  inquisitive 
elves  of  the  firelight  caught  many  a  stinging 
arraignment  of  the  self-centered  Rodney,  and 
many  a  panegyric  of  busy  Mother  Rose,  but 
they  fled  chuckling  up  the  chimney  and  held 
their  peace  like  the  wise  and  cheery  little  elves 
they  were. 

So,  midnights,  the  Doctor  lingered  in  his 
office  over  his  coffee  and  his  tattered  book  of 
Burns,  ever  alert  for  the  homing  steps  of  his 
nephew.  And  his  welcome  was  always  the  same : 

'  Well,  dear  lad,  have  ye  been  coortin*  the 
Leddy  Rose?" 


Chapter  6 
The  Doctor's  Christmas 

FROST- WHITE,  winter  swept  over 
Auburnia,  unleashing  the  wings  of  a  freez- 
ing gale.  December  came  ermine  clad,  draping 
the  Doctor's  shivering  elms  in  tippets  of  snow; 
and  chill  twilights  Peggy  plodded  up  the 
driveway  under  a  tossing  lace-wing  of  branches, 
feathery  and  white. 

In  the  murk  shadows  of  the  early  twilight, 
there  was  much  that  the  Doctor  loved.  Lights 
were  brighter,  he  fancied,  when  they  twinkled 
cheerily  through  snow  and  snapping  cold;  and 
the  dusk,  shrouding  branches  black  against  the 
winter  sunset,  somehow  invested  every  dwelling 
with  inferential  coziness  and  cheer. 

Winter  twilights,  too,  brought  with  them  those 
colorful  hours  in  Ben's  workroom  when,  armed 
with  the  inevitable  bundle  of  "  troosers,"  the 
Doctor  might  drop  in  and  smoke  one  of  his 
atrocious  cigars  in  the  smoky  glare  of  the  little 
tailor's  kerosene  lamp,  watching  with  eyes 
a-twinkle  while  Ben  fell  fiercely  upon  his  little 
stove  and  raked  and  shook  and  abused  it 

74 


Chapter  Six  75 

generally  to  increase  its  already  generous  halo 
of  cheer,  thereafter  beaming  and  bustling  and 
ironing  and  stitching  and  talking,  always  talk- 
ing, to  the  Doctor's  keen  enjoyment,  of  the 
mosques  and  minarets  of  far  off  Beirut  and  of 
the  wonderful  silence  and  star-glitter  of  the 
mystic  desert. 

Then  —  rare  privilege  of  the  chilling  winter! 
—  the  Doctor  might  indulge  his  fondness  for 
the  great,  old-fashioned  kitchen  of  the  Hame, 
entering  by  the  back  door  with  a  mighty 
stamping  of  snow  from  his  feet  and  with  nose 
and  cheeks  red  with  cold  beneath  the  ragged 
fur  cap  which  quite  evidently  was  of  a  class 
with  the  piebald  Peggy  and  his  carpet  slippers, 
retained  in  active  service  too  long  and  decidedly 
unprofessional. 

What  cheerful  fire-shadows  danced  then  upon 
the  floor  before  the  barred  grate,  and  how 
delightedly  the  Doctor  loitered  over  Scotch 
Flora's  shining  stove,  hands  aspread  to  the 
welcome  warmth,  ear  alive  to  the  homely  singing 
of  the  kettle,  and  tongue  invariably  primed 
with  a  quotation  or  so  for  Jamie  and  Flora. 

Sometimes  it  was  a  sonorous: 

"  Loud  blaw  the  frosty  breezes, 
The  snatvs  the  mountains  cover. 


76  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  What  would  ye  be  cookin'  in  the  great  pot, 
Flora,  lass,  pesterin'  a  hungry  man  with  such  an 
odor? " 

And  sometimes  this: 

"  The  wintry  west  extends  his  blast, 
And  hail  and  rain  does  blaw; 
Or  the  stormy  north  sends  driving  forth 
The  blinding  sleet  and  snaw! 

'  Ye  have  given  Peggy  and  Ginger  guid 
war-r-r-m  beds,  eh,  Jamie?  'Tis  a  mortal  bad 
night." 

Oftenest  of  all,  however,  came  his  favorite: 

"  While  winds  frae  aff  Ben  Lomond  blow, 
And  bar  the  doors  wi   drivin  snaw, 
And  hing  us  owre  the  ingle, 
I  set  me  down  to  pass  the  time, 
And  spin  a  verse  or  twa  o'  rhyme, 
In  hamely,  westlin  jingle" 

A  blizzard  trumpeted  the  advent  of  the 
Christmas  week,  piling  its  ermine  far  and  wide 
with  the  silvering  bite  of  a  freezing  wind,  and 
in  the  early  twilight  of  the  Christmas  eve  the 
Doctor  came  riding  home  atop  a  sleigh  of  holly 
and  mistletoe,  leaving  a  trail  of  crimson  berries 
along  the  snowy  road  behind  him. 


Chapter  Six  77 

Bob  and  Jean  helped  him  hang  the  Hame 
with  holly,  and  presently  the  tireless  Doctor 
once  more  donned  his  ragged  fur  cap  and  great 
coat  for  an  errand  no  one  dared  to  question. 

"  Ye've  not  forgot  anything,  eh,  Jamie,  lad?  " 
he  questioned,  as  the  old  Scotchman  hovered 
about  the  sleigh  after  numberless  trips  to  and 
from  the  house.  Jamie's  answer  was  a  little 
odd. 

"  God  speed  ye,  Roderick  Glenmuir,  ye're  a 
guid  man ! " 

Now,  oddly  enough,  as  the  Doctor  drove  off 
his  good-humor  seemed  to  disappear.  He  fell 
to  glowering  fiercely  from  beneath  his  bushy 
eyebrows  and  looking  so  grim  with  his  chin 
stuck  out  and  his  shoulders  squared  that  the 
bravest  of  men  would  not  have  halted  him. 
Therefore  no  curious  idler  questioned  his 
destination  or  commented  upon  his  bulging 
pockets  and  the  eccentric  bundles  in  his  sleigh, 
though  many  a  friendly  voice  called  a  Christmas 
greeting  and  many  a  pair  of  eyes  followed  him 
with  a  twinkle  of  understanding. 
And  many  a  weariful  little  mother  of  poverty 
rained  blessings  that  Christmas  Eve  upon  a 
mysterious  Christmas  saint  whose  mare  was  as 
old  as  his  cap  was  ragged. 

From  the  window  Jean  watched  him  drive 


78  The  Lovable  Meddler 

away,  her  eyes  gentle.  Twisting  a  bit  of  holly 
absently  about  in  her  fingers,  she  gave  a  little 
cry. 

"  I  always  forget/'  she  said,  "  that  anything 
so  Christmasy  as  holly  may  still  have  thorns  —  " 

Bob  sighed. 

"  Jeannie,"  he  asked  unexpectedly,  "  why 
won't  you  marry  me?  " 

Jean's  good-humored  laugh  was  far  too  kindly 
to  offend. 

"  Given  the  most  unromantic  setting  and  a 
group  of  utterly  prosaic  circumstances,"  she 
commented  drolly,  "  and  I  may  always  depend 
upon  you  for  a  proposal,  Bob.  Once  when 
your  canoe  upset,  once  when  I  sat  perched  upon 
the  limb  of  a  tree  while  you  killed  a  snake, 
once  —  " 

"  Enough !  It's  a  true  bill.  And  now  a  holly 
thorn.  So  we  still  split  on  that  infernal  rock 
of  philosophy,  Jean? " 

"  I  thought  we  threshed  that  all  out  the 
other  night." 

"Hum!"  Bob  cleared  his  throat.  "Yes,  we 
did.  I  think  you  told  me  I  was  far  too  tranquil 
and  philosophical  to  have  any  spirit,  didn't 
you?  We  were  speaking  of  my  attitude  toward 
Gunnigan." 

"Oh,    no,    no,    no,    Bob!"    protested    Jean, 


Chapter  Six  79 

coloring.  "  I  didn't  put  it  just  that  way,  I'm 
sure." 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Bob.  "  You  pointed  out  that 
I  had  deadened  too  much  of  the  primitive  man 
with  mental  poultices  of  Epictetus  and  Marcus 
Aurelius.  Remember? " 

"  I  said,"  admitted  Jean,  "  that  you  were  not 
sufficiently  elemental.  What  can  you  expect  of 
a  man,"  she  added  humorously,  "  who  pores 
over  Herbert  Spencer  and  Schopenhauer  and 
Kant  for  amusement!  You  smother  all  the  fire 
of  your  brain  with  the  dry  dust  of  philosophy." 

Bob  had  a  mind  to  remain  silent  at  this  but 
the  mooted  Spencer  was  an  idol. 

"  You'll  not  find  a  finer  thing,"  he 
urged,  "  than  Spencer's  *  Philosophy  of  the 
Unknowable  '  I " 

"Rank  agnosticism!"  accused  Jean,  her  eyes 
merry.  "  And  your  pessimistic  Schopenhauer  is 
a  most  unattractive  misogynist." 

"  Hum! "  said  Bob,  rubbing  his  chin,  but  the 
light  of  battle  was  slowly  kindling  in  his  lazy 
eyes. 

"  And  what,"  persisted  Jean,  "  what  can  you 
expect  of  a  man  who  smiles  and  shrugs  over 
Reddy  Gunnigan's  editorial  insults,  and  laughs 
—  mind  you  —  laughs  when  he's  writing  the 
answers? " 


80  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Mere  puerilities,"  disdained  Bob.  "  Your 
true  philosopher  is  above  'em.  Larry,  I  imagine, 
is  a  sort  of  elemental  person  in  his  heart  —  " 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Jean  instantly,  "  Larry's  not 
much  of  a  philosopher.  Larry  would,  I  think, 
love  very  greatly  and  suffer  very  greatly  too." 

"  And  a  philosopher  of  course  never  loves 
very  greatly  and  therefore  never  suffers ! " 

Jean  stared,  conscious  of  a  new  note  in  the 
lazy  quiet  of  his  voice,  but  Bob  was  carefully 
packing  tobacco  into  the  huge  bowl  of  his  pipe 
and  the  girl  watched  him  in  puzzled  silence. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,  Bob,"  she  urged,  laying 
an  impulsive  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  that  by 
unreasonably  tempering  primitive  instincts  you 
impair  your  capacity  for  soaring  to  the  heights 
or  descending  into  the  depths?" 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Bob.  With  sudden  gentleness 
his  hand  closed  tightly  over  the  one  upon  his 
arm  and  raising  it  to  his  lips,  he  kissed  it. 

"And  you,  Jeannie?" 

"  Oh,  Bob,"  said  the  girl,  "  I'm  a  wild  High- 
lander in  my  heart,  like  Larry,  and  I  must  be 
loved  very  greatly  or  not  at  all!"  And  Bob 
fancied  her  eyes  glowed  like  dark-rimmed 
topazes. 

"  And  you  still  think  I  can't  give  you  that 
love?  " 


Chapter  Six  81 

"  Let's  not  talk  of  it  any  more,  Bob!  I'm  so 
very  fond  of  you,  and  yet  — 

With  a  sudden  squaring  of  his  broad 
shoulders,  Bob  smiled.  It  was  a  smile  that 
cost  him  something  of  a  struggle,  but  fancying 
it  born  of  his  ever-present  philosophy,  Jean 
shrugged  and  turned  away;  then  meeting  his 
eyes,  she  too  smiled,  readily  good-humored. 

"Always  friends,  though,  Jeannie?" 

"Always  friends!" 

And  shaking  hands  these  two  renewed  a 
childhood  pledge  of  friendship. 

With  the  midnight  echo  of  the  Christmas 
bells,  came  the  first  white  feather  of  the  tranquil 
Christmas  snow.  No  wind-lashed  blizzard  this 
time,  only  a  gentle,  kindly  feathering  of  the 
Christmas  world  with  "  a  silence  deep  and 
white."  An  old-fashioned  Christmas!  So  the 
doctor  declared  it  from  his  window  Christmas 
morning  and  so  indeed  it  was  from  the  first 
dawn-glimmer  of  the  ragged  ermine  on  the 
fences  to  the  snow-sheen  of  the  Christmas  moon. 

The  holiday-loving  Doctor  gathered  his 
friends  about  him  over  a  blazing  Yule  log 
Christmas  night. 

Mildly  the  Christmas  moon  rose  over 
Auburnia,  over  the  Hame  o'  Roses  and  the 
Doctor's  elms  and  after  a  peep  at  its  winter 


82  The  Lovable  Meddler 

glory,  Doctor  Roderick  beckoned  Larry  to  his 
side. 

"  Larry,"  he  exclaimed  earnestly  in  an  under- 
tone, "  why  dinna  ye  take  the  dear  Leddy  Rose 
out  sleighin',  eh,  laddie?  Jamie  will  put  Peggy 
to  the  cutter  for  ye.  'Tis  such  a  mild  night 
with  the  great  moon  and  the  snow,  and  when  ye 
know  well  enough  ye  just  canna  freeze,  Peggy 
is  as  guid  a  sweetheartin'  horse  as  ye  would 
find  anywhere."  And  as  Larry  was  dutiful  and 
respectful  to  his  uncle  in  all  things,  so  was  he 
dutiful  and  respectful  in  this. 

Now  whether  the  all-pervasive  Christmas 
spirit  crept  into  Peggy's  legs  or  whether  the 
hand  upon  the  reins  was  perhaps  not  quite  so 
indulgent  as  the  Doctor's,  who  can  tell?  Cer- 
tainly the  old  mare  left  the  driveway  in  a 
tranquil  trot  that  was  swift  enough  for  Larry, 
and  Rose,  accustomed  to  old  Molly's  amble, 
protested  drolly  at  their  speed. 

On  and  on  they  sped  under  the  white  sheen 
of  the  winter  moon  and  Larry,  watching  the 
winsome  profile  of  his  Leddy  Rose  above  the 
dark  line  of  her  furs,  felt  the  year  of  silent 
wooing  to  which  the  Doctor  had  bound  him 
weigh  most  heavily  upon  his  patience. 

With  a  sigh  he  rummaged  for  his  tobacco 
and  a  pipe. 


Chapter  Six  83 

"A  sigh,  Larry,  on  Christmas  night!" 
exclaimed  Rose,  and  Larry  was  keenly  con- 
scious of  the  thrill  that  always  surged  over  him 
when  she  spoke  his  name.  Still,  as  he  well 
knew,  there  was  nothing  of  coquetry  in  it.  It 
was  but  a  winsome  bit  of  the  girl's  alluring 
informality. 

"Indigestion!"  countered  Larry,  and  Rose 
with  her  tranquil  laugh  leaned  over  and  took  the 
reins. 

"  Let  me  drive  while  you  smoke,"  she  sug- 
gested, swiftly  mindful  for  his  comfort,  and 
with  the  slacking  of  the  reins,  Peggy  became 
conscious  of  the  beauty  of  the  landscape  and 
paused  with  a  blink  to  enjoy  it. 

"  So,"  commented  Larry,  "  so  ye  were  verra 
well  pleased  with  your  wee  Christmas  giftie, 
eh,  Leddy  Rose?" 

"  So  much  so  that  I've  brought  it  with  me 
to-night."  Rose  drew  from  her  muff  a  tiny 
volume  of  "  Afghan  Love  Songs "  bound  in 
tooled  and  inlaid  levant.  "  How  like  the  Doctor 
you  are  at  times,  Larry!  Just  now  when  you 
spoke,  I  could  have  fancied  him  beside  me." 

"  I  doubt  if  you  could  pay  me  a  greater 
compliment." 

"  And  how  much  you  two  admire  each  other !  " 
Rose  smiled.  "  Why,  just  a  while  ago  I  said 


84  The  Lovable  Meddler 

something  similar  to  the  Doctor  —  of  how  very 
like  you  he  must  have  been  in  his  youth  —  and 
he  was  more  than  delighted.  Declared  it  was 
quite  the  most  agreeable  and  flattering  compli- 
ment he'd  had  in  many  a  day!  " 

"Hum!"  said  Larry  doubtfully,  but  under 
Rose's  serene  guidance  Peggy  was  growing 
somewhat  drowsy,  and  knocking  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe  Larry  gladly  turned  his  attention  to 
the  reins. 

With  Mother  Rose,  to  read  once  was  to 
remember  much.  Now  she  fingered  the  book 
which  Larry  had  given  her  and  began  to  quote: 

"  Your  two   large   eyes  are  like   the   stars   of 

Heaven; 
Your  white  face  is  like  the  throne  of  Shah 

Jahan: 
Your  two  tender,  delicate  arms  are  like  the 

blades  of  Iran 

And  your  slender  body  is  like  the  standard  of 
Solomon. 

My  life  for  you!    Do  not  cry. 

Dear,  dear  child!  a  flower  in  your  hat! 
It  shines  like  a  sprig  of  gold! 

'  You  read  it  here  perhaps  ?    It  is  an  Afghan 


Chapter  Six  85 

mother's  song  to  her  child.  '  My  life  for  you ! ' 
How  like  a  mother !  Weird  and  quaint  and  wild 
but  still  the  barbaric  chant  of  a  mother-heart 
and  therefore  beautiful.  After  all,  a  mother  is 
a  mother  the  world  over,  be  she  wild  Afghan 
or  not." 

"Hum!"  said  Larry.  He  was  not  feeling 
strongly  interested  in  Afghan  mother-love  and 
fretted  at  the  trend  of  Rose's  interest.  "  But 
the  love  songs? " 

"  There  is  a  wonderful  atmosphere  and  a 
wonderful  rhythm.  One  hears  the  wild  songs, 
the  clank  and  glitter  of  the  Afghan  bazaar  in 
a  land  of  mosques  and  pomegranates,  of 
dervishes  and  wild  kharo  birds  but  - 

"  You  read  those  I  marked?  " 

"  Yes.  '  Strike  my  head,  plunder  my  goods, 
but  let  me  see  the  eyes  of  the  one  I  love  and 
I  will  give  my  blood!'  '  she  quoted.  "That 
was  one  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  She  has  sugar  on  her  lips,  she  has  pearls  for 

her  teeth: 
All    this    she    has,    my    beloved    one;    I    am 

wounded  in  my  heart, 
And    therefore   I    am    a    beggar    that   cries, 

low-low! 


86  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  That  was  another.  Somehow  all  you 
marked,  Larry,  sound  the  same  note :  the  wilder, 
the  more  barbaric  side  of  love.  I  do  not  like 
that  side  so  well.  They  are  —  what  shall  I 
call  them?  —  too  elemental.  Yes,  that's  it;  too 
elemental,  all  of  them!" 

Larry  tightened  the  reins. 

"  I  very  much  fear,"  he  said  ruefully,  "  that 
I  am  a  bit  elemental  myself.  With  me,  they 
strike  a  kindred  chord." 

The  Christmas  elves  abroad  that  night  must 
have  chuckled  at  the  very  irony  of  it  all;  Jean 
crying  out  for  the  elemental  in  the  love  that 
lay  at  her  feet;  gentle  Mother  Rose  shrinking 
back  in  dismay  at  the  very  breath  of  it. 


Chapter  7 
Henchmen 

SO  THE  snail-like  winter  went  creeping  on 
and  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  Jerry  Colson,  the 
lean  and  gloomy  young  artist  of  the  wind  trio, 
very  nearly  precipitated  Larry's  forbidden 
declaration  months  before  its  schedule  by  the 
unexpected  production  of  a  wonderful  painting 
of  the  Leddy  Rose,  over  which,  with  Rose's 
good-humored  connivance,  he  had  been  working 
in  deepest  secrecy. 

Now  it  is  a  most  regrettable  fact  that  the 
Doctor's  indiscreet  tongue  had  somehow  con- 
trived to  let  out  all  about  Larry's  promised 
year  of  silence  to  the  lads  of  the  Music  Box 
and  the  Cave. 

"  And  verra  necessary  it  was,  too,"  the  Doctor 
had  told  himself  in  defense  of  the  indiscretion, 
"  for  it  has  just  kept  me  awake  o'  nights  plannin' 
to  keep  the  daffy  lads  from  all  fallin'  head  over 
kerturby  in  love  with  Leddy  Rose  themselves. 
I  could  see  it  comin'.  And  I  winna  have  my 
Larry's  wooin'  complicated  by  a  flock  o'  rivals!  " 

So  it  was  that  upon  the  disastrous  completion 

87 


88  The  Lovable  Meddler 

of  Jerry's  painting,  the  artist  was  haled  before 
the  Doctor  late  one  night  by  an  outraged  com- 
mittee of  five  from  the  two  apartments. 

It  was  a  ludicrous  delegation. 

"Just  look  at  him  over  there!"  exclaimed 
Norman  Ames  with  a  scathing  wave  of  his  hand 
to  where  Jerry  sat  plunged  in  gloom.  "  Just 
look  at  him!  Rank  old  meddler!  " 

"  Guid  faith !  "  the  Doctor  rose  from  his  chair 
and  stared  aghast  at  the  delegation,  "  just  what 
has  the  lad  been  doin',  Norman,  that  ye  feel 
called  upon  to  be  so  mortal  tragic?  " 

There  was  a  prompt  and  grumbling  chorus 
of  explanation,  quite  unintelligible,  during 
which  Jerry  shrugged  disgustedly  and  the 
Doctor  looked  helplessly  from  one  to  the  other. 
Then  Roger  Brett's  deep  voice  boomed  above 
the  others: 

!<  Up  and  paints  a  picture  of  Rose,"  he  was 
saying,  "  in  old-fashioned  high-heeled  slippers 
and  a  wonderful  old  brocade  gown  they've  been 
hoarding  up  in  the  Weston  attic  since  the  days 
of  the  ark,  one  of  her  Great- Aunt  Felicia's  —  " 

"Hear  —  hear  the  civil  engineer!"  jeered 
Jerry. 

With  a  scathing  look  at  the  prisoner  Grant 
Dallinger  took  the  burden  of  explanation  upon 
himself. 


Chapter  Seven  89 

"  Paints  her  playing  Great- Aunt  Felicia's 
harp,  too !  "  he  explained  witheringly. 

"Corking  good  work,  though!"  broke  in 
Quin  Courtney,  with  a  quick  sparkle  of  his 
eyes.  "  Corking!  And  like  her?  Well,  say, 
he's  even  caught  that  odd  cheeriness  that  seems 
to  light  up  Rose's  face  when  she  isn't  smiling! 
All  dangerous  enough  in  itself,  but  what  does 
this  misguided  artist  of  ours  do  — 

"God  bless  my  soul!"  interposed  the 
bewildered  Doctor.  "  What  would  be  the  cause 
then  of  all  this  disgrace  and  gloom  into  which 
the  five  of  ye  have  plunged  poor  Jerry? 
Surely  it  canna  be  that  ye've  captured  the  poor 
lad  and  dragged  him  here  all  for  paintin'  such 
a  charmin'  picture  of  the  dear  Leddy  Rose? " 

"  Exactly!  "  put  in  Jerry  huffily.  "  What  in 
creation's  wrong  with  poor  Jerry  anyway? 
Nothing  at  all  Oh,  no!  Nothing  at  all.  Only 
the  eternal  prey  of  Fate,  the  scorn  of  Nemesis! 
Ask  Uncle  Shad  whose  breakfast  herring  the 
partnership  cat  always  swipes.  Ask  him  whose 
sock  is  always  missing  when  the  wash  comes 
home.  Always  Jerry,  puffball  of  the  Wind  of 
Fate!" 

"Oh,  dry  up,  Jerry!"  advised  Grant  Dai- 
linger.  '  You  gave  us  all  that  on  the  way  here." 

"  Rank    old    meddler ! "    sputtered    Norman 


90  The  Lovable  Meddler 

again,  looking  very  fat  and  indignant.  '  What, 
sir,  does  this  attenuated  artist  of  ours  do,  this 
puffball  of  the  Wind  of  Fate,  this  long,  lean, 
black-eyed,  saturnine  Jerry  here,  but  keep  the 
painting  a  secret  —  " 

"  And  then  to-night,"  supplemented  Lloyd 
Ridgely,  "  invites  us  all  over  to  the  studio  and 
then  and  there  melodramatically  drops  a  curtain 
he'd  made  himself  —  and  presents  the  picture 
to  Larry  as  a  surprise.  Mind  you,  without  a 
word  of  warning,  and  with  us  all  around! " 

"  Am  I  ever  alone? "  demanded  Jerry  elabor- 
ately. "  Do  I  ever  have  a  peaceful  minute  to 
myself?  Didn't  Nemesis  decree  that  you'd 
all  cling  to  me  like  barnacles  to  a  ship?  Huh!  " 

"  And  Larry,"  exploded  Norman,  "  Larry,  he 
turned  red  and  then  white  and  then  red  again 
and  he  looked  at  the  picture  of  Rose  and  stam- 
mered something.  Anybody  with  an  eye  for 
romance  —  " 

'  You're  too  fat  to  be  romantic,"  put  in  the 
prisoner  with  unnecessary  impudence. 

"  Anybody,"  repeated  Norman  coldly,  "  with 
an  eye  for  romance  could  see  he  was  upset. 
Then,  after  he'd  been  mighty  civil  and  decent 
to  Jerry  for  all  his  lunacy,  as  soon  as  he  could, 
he  —  " 

"Slipped    away!"    interposed    Roger,    pro- 


Chapter  Seven  91 

ducing  a  handful  of  fat  black  cigars  and 
distributing  them  like  so  many  complimentary 
tickets.  "  Slipped  away,  as  our  fat  romanticist 
there  would  say,  into  the  darksome  night." 

"Slipped  away!"  nodded  Norman,  making 
the  most  of  this  romantic  climax.  "  And  you're 
no  sylph  yourself,  Roger!  And  where  does  he 
slip  to?  Don't  I  suspect  right  away?  That 
painting  of  Rose  was  too  unexpected.  No  doubt 
about  it,  it  is  a  peach !  And  it  was  too  much  for 
him.  Larry,  sir,  headed  straight  for  the 
Westons,  all  primed  to  break  that  year  of 
silence!  But  I  stalked  him,"  went  on  Norman 
darkly.  "  I  bolted  out  and  stalked  him,  slinking 
along  behind  him  with  my  hat  down  over  my 
eyes  to  avoid  detection.  And  then,"  Norman's 
voice  was  charged  with  exasperation,  "  what 
must  Jerry  do  but  brazenly  duck  his  head  out 
of  the  Cave  window  and  whistle  a  fool  burglar 
march  for  me  to  go  by.  Naturally  Larry  turned 
around  —  and  I  had  to  duck  into  a  doorway. 
Mighty  thankful  I  was,  however,  after  I'd 
hidden  behind  a  tree  on  the  Weston  lawn,  to 
hear  Tavia  say  that  Rose  was  out  sleighing  with 
her  father.  It  saved  the  day,  though  to  be  sure," 
Norman  added  with  a  terrible  glance  at  Jerry, 
"  I  would  have  stopped  him  at  any  cost  if  Rose 
had  been  there,  after  Jerry  messing  things  so." 


92  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Now  whether  poor  Larry's  intention  had  been 
to  break  his  year  of  silence  or  whether  he  had 
merely  sought  to  escape  from  the  disturbing 
battery  of  eyes,  the  excited  Doctor  could  not 
decide,  but  certainly  it  pleased  the  romance- 
loving  Norman  to  think  he  had  in  a  measure 
guarded  the  citadel  of  silence,  and  therefore  the 
Doctor  patted  him  on  the  back  and  called  him 
a  "guidlad!" 

"  But  'twas  not  so  verra  discreet,  Jerry,  lad!  " 
opined  the  Doctor  kindly,  "  to  spring  such  a  rare 
and  lovely  likeness  of  his  leddy  upon  him  so 
verra  unexpected  and  with  ye  all  around! " 

Jerry  merely  sniffed  and  refused  to  express 
any  decent  repentance.  So,  presently,  over  an 
enormous  company  pot  of  coffee,  the  Doctor 
and  his  henchmen  foregathered  about  the  office 
fire  in  an  exhaustive  discussion  of  Jerry's 
faih'ngs. 

"Hist!"  said  the  Doctor  darkly.  "A  step! 
Guid  faith,  'tis  Larry  himself.  Not  a  word, 
mind  ye,  of  the  year  of  silence.  I  would  not 
for  the  world  have  Larry  know  I  had  been 
gabbin'  away  so  loose  to  any  of  ye !  " 

Straightway  Norman,  with  his  passion  for 
intrigue,  was  all  for  assembling  his  party  under 
the  table  until  Larry  had  departed,  but  this  was 
instantly  voted  down  by  the  Doctor,  who  fore- 


Chapter  Seven  93 

saw  its  probable  results.  When  at  last  Larry 
entered,  considerably  astonished  at  the  sight  of 
the  midnight  conference,  it  was  a  line  of  guilty 
faces  that  greeted  him,  and  the  Doctor  purposely 
created  a  great  to-do  about  the  empty  coffee 
pot  to  distract  his  nephew's  attention. 

Thus  the  crisis  in  Larry's  courtship  was  neatly 
tided  over,  but  Jerry  was  under  strict  surveil- 
lance for  many  a  day  thereafter,  to  his  intense 
disgust. 

"  And  almost  before  ye  could  make  a  crambo- 
clink  about  it,"  as  the  Doctor  put  it,  "  the 
summer  was  upon  ye!  " 

Lilacs  purpled  in  the  gardens;  wistaria  cas- 
caded over  the  roof  of  the  Weston  barn;  the 
Doctor's  elms  were  freshly  caparisoned  in  the 
tender  green  of  early  summer;  and  once  more 
the  bonny  roses  were  nodding  bright  heads  to 
the  Hame  in  a  colorful  halo  of  cheer.  With 
them  came  a  vast  army  of  rose-bugs,  recruited 
largely  it  appeared  from  scarabaeoid  crooks  and 
bandits,  and  Jamie  began  his  annual  toboggan- 
ing perditionward  under  the  disapproving  gaze 
of  Flora.  And  at  the  zenith  of  the  roses' 
empery,  came,  per  honored  custom,  the  Doctor's 
rose-party. 

Once  more  Jamie  appeared  at  sunset  with 
his  plea  for  a  family  inspection  of  the  Glenmuir 


94  The  Lovable  Meddler 

roses;  once  more,  as  ever,  the  roses  were  a  sight 
for  "  sair  e'en  "  with  the  sunset  light  upon  them, 
and  Jamie  did  not  think  that  any  year  could  be 
"  so  guid  for  the  flowers." 

So,  at  last,  to  the  relief  of  the  Music  Box  and 
the  Cave,  and  most  of  all  poor  Jerry,  who  had 
been  the  victim  of  a  most  offensive  system  of 
espionage,  Larry's  year  of  silence  came  to  an 
end.  It  was  the  Doctor  himself  who  absolved 
his  nephew  in  the  week  following  the  rose-party. 

"  And  now,  Larry,  lad,  God  speed  ye !  Your 
poor  old  uncle  has  been  more  than  meddlesome 
and  gossipy  with  his  clackin'  tongue  and  his 
unprofessional  ways,  and  I  dinna  doubt  he  has 
pestered  ye  a  deal,  but  dinna  forget,  laddie,  he 
has  your  welfare  verra  close  to  his  heart! " 


Chapter  8 
In  which  Larry  finds  the  thorn 

WITH  the  coming  of  summer  many  a 
strolling  Auburnian  saw  the  family  artist 
digging  in  the  Weston  gardens.  Many  a  stroll- 
ing Auburnian  grudgingly  admitted  that  in  his 
broad  garden  hat,  white  flannels  and  tennis 
shoes,  King  Rodney  looked  distractingly  hand- 
some and  busy  and  picturesque,  and  that  with 
all  his  idiosyncrasies  the  man  contrived  to  make 
the  best  of  his  ancient  house  and  grounds,  instill- 
ing into  the  welter  of  old-fashioned  flowers 
without  and  the  faded  furnishings  within,  a  real 
air  of  distinction  and  beauty.  But  few  saw  the 
busy  gardener,  in  cotton  gloves  and  a  pink  sun- 
bonnet,  who  was  astir  with  the  chattering  robins 
in  the  cherry  orchard ;  and  but  few  knew  that  the 
sure  color  touch  apparent  everywhere,  from  the 
brightly-flowered  chintz  in  the  bedrooms,  veiling 
unlovely,  threadbare  gaps,  to  the  tiger  lilies 
about  the  barn,  was  the  touch  of  Mother  Rose. 
But  the  greatest  tribute  to  the  girl's  delicate 
artistry  lay  behind  a  yellow-flowered  hedge  of 

05 


96  The  Lovable  Meddler 

currants,  where  a  secluded  water-garden  sloped 
gently  from  a  moss-rimmed  spring  upon  a 
wooded  knoll  to  the  windows  of  the  eastern 
wing.  Tricked  into  picturesque  service,  the 
clear  waters  of  the  spring  slipped  over  mossy 
rocks  first  to  one  pool  and  then  another,  cascad- 
ing musically  where  the  drop  from  pool  to  pool 
was  deep,  slipping  sleepily  along  when  the  fall 
was  slight,  but  ever  moving  onward  and  down- 
ward to  the  hidden  drain. 

Rose's  garden  indeed!  Every  pool,  fringed 
in  moss  and  rock  fern,  from  which  the  spires  of 
rush  and  flag  and  lily  nodded,  mirrored  a  tribute 
to  the  girl's  deft  fingers.  Yellow  lotus  floated 
drowsily  upon  the  deeper  pools;  water  lilies 
opened  waxen  sails  to  the  morning  sun  and 
furled  them  with  the  evening  dusk  to  spars  of 
emerald;  and  in  the  ragged  pickerel  weed  along 
the  shores  flashed  a  hoard  of  silver-scaled  and 
hungry  fish  and,  at  times,  a  solemn  frog.  Water 
hyacinths  built  up  minarets  of  violet  from 
mosques  of  leafy  green;  wrater  snowflakes 
spangled  the  surface  of  the  shallow  pools  with 
a  milk-white  drift  of  stars,  and  over  an  occa- 
sional sleepy  patch  of  water  aquatic  poppies 
hung  their  yellow  elf -lanterns  above  a  shining 
wilderness  of  leaves. 

Such   was   Mother   Rose's   water-garden,   its 


Chapter  Eight  97 

quiet  pools  purling  darkly  beneath  an  occasional 
willow,  its  quiet  walks  a  sanctuary  for  the 
favored  few. 

Now  there  was  one  favorite  willow,  showering 
above  the  water  like  a  green  mantilla,  beneath 
which  Mother  Rose  was  wont  to  spend  an  hour 
or  so  with  the  family  darning,  and  here  on  an 
afternoon  that  was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  water 
lilies,  she  laid  aside  her  basket  of  sewing  to 
feed  once  more  the  tiny  fish  flashing  silver 
among  the  pickerel  weed  at  her  feet.  A  chirping 
caucus  of  birds  settled  fearlessly  around  her, 
hopping  about  with  a  confidence  born  of  experi- 
ence, and,  smiling,  Rose  sprinkled  the  ground 
about  her  thick  with  crumbs  and  sat  motionless 
that  she  might  not  disturb  them.  It  was  a  scene 
so  characteristic  of  Rose  and  her  forethought 
that  a  visitor  paused  by  the  currant  hedge  to 
enjoy  it.  Set  in  the  heart  of  this  cool  green 
pastel  of  tree  and  water,  with  the  birds  cluster- 
ing about  her  and  the  willow  moving  drowsily 
above  her  head,  the  quiet  figure  in  her  gown  of 
green  epitomized  the  charm  of  the  afternoon. 

*  Why,  Larry ! "  exclaimed  Rose  in  surprise 
as  presently  he  swung  back  the  gate.  "  Didn't 
you  go  to  the  Doctor's  picnic? " 

"  No,"    said    Larry,    somewhat   embarrassed. 


98  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  No,  I  didn't.  How  very  like  a  tree  dryad 
you  look  to-day,  Rose.  And  what  a  wonder- 
fully cool-looking,  becoming  green  you've  chosen 
to  wear  on  this  very  hot  afternoon." 

"  It's  my  bird  dress!  "  nodded  Rose,  resuming 
her  sewing.  "  Just  a  queer  fancy,  Larry.  I 
like  to  wear  it  here  in  the  water- garden.  Some- 
how the  birds  seem  to  flock  about  me  more 
readily  when  I'm  wearing  green  like  the  trees 
and  all  the  rest  of  their  pleasant  friends." 

"Do  I  clash  with  the  landscape?" 

"  By  no  means !  .  .  .  How  very  handsome 
you're  looking  to-day,  Larry,"  added  the  girl 
with  a  flash  of  bewitching  candor.  "  You  and 
Quin  have  started  a  perfect  epidemic  of  white 
flannels  among  the  callow  youth  of  Auburnia!  " 

Now  Rose  was  ever  so  pleasant  and  sincere 
with  her  praise,  and  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem, 
so  frankly  impersonal,  that  constraint  rarely 
lingered.  So  Larry,  stretched  comfortably  upon 
the  grass  beside  her  with  his  head  resting  lazily 
upon  his  hand,  smiled  at  her  over  the  workbasket 
and  drolly  saluted  his  thanks. 

"And  how  very  blue  your  eyes  are!  Some- 
where among  your  Highland  ancestors,  Larry, 
I'm  sure  there  must  have  been  a  great,  merry, 
rollicking  Irishman  with  those  wonderful,  Irish- 


Chapter  Eight  99 

blue  eyes  that  some  phrase-coining  novelist  has 
called  *  smut-rimmed  ' !  " 

"Pleasant  simile!  With  an  inferential  need 
of  soap  and  water."  And  Larry  casually  aimed 
a  pebble  at  a  huge  toad  blinking  from  some 
purple  saxafrage  among  the  rocks. 

"  Larry!  "  protested  Rose.    "  It's  Sir  Amos!  " 

"Sir  Amos!"  exclaimed  Larry  aghast. 
"  Well,  'pon  my  word,  Sir  Amos!  " 

'  To  be  sure.  He  polices  the  water-garden 
and  attends  in  his  own  way  to  any  disreputable 
bug-person  who  betrays  a  tendency  to  colonize 
among  the  rock  foliage.  He's  a  very  valuable 
adjunct  to  our  comfort,  I  assure  you." 

"But  he's  not  at  all  'andsome!"  objected 
Larry  and  Rose  bridled. 

"  Must  everything  match  your  very  good  look- 
ing Highness?"  she  demanded.  "I  like  him 
all  the  better  for  his  physical  limitations. 
Besides,  he's  a  philosopher,  and  I'm  very  partial 
to  philosophers !  " 

"  I'm  going  to  acquire  a  hump  and  a  limp," 
Larry  assured  her.  "  They're  very  definite 
assets.  And  I  wish  I  were  a  philosopher!  " 

Rose  glanced  at  him  curiously,  but  meeting  his 
eyes  she  colored  slightly  and  returned  to  her 
darning.  Whereupon  Larry  fell  busily  to  pack- 
ing tobacco  into  his  pipe  and  whistling  softly  to 


100  The  Lovable  Meddler 

himself.  A  silence  fell  between  them,  broken  at 
last  by  Rose. 

"  The  water  arum  is  ablaze  with  berries,"  she 
said,  clipping  a  straggling  thread.  "  See, 
Larry,  over  there  by  the  soggy  edge  of  the  pool. 
How  very  red  the  berries  are!  And  yesterday 
Grant  brought  me  such  a  lot  of  new  plants. 
Water  shield  and  white  water  crowfoot  and  a 
spearwort  that's  just  like  a  buttercup.  And 
Jerry's  pledged  himself  to  forage  every  flower- 
pond  he  finds  to-day  for  water  fern.  How  very 
like  the  Doctor  to  wheedle  the  Music  Box  and 
the  Cave  and  my  busy  sisters  into  a  picnic!  " 

Larry  laughed. 

"  I  breakfasted  at  the  Hame  this  morning," 
he  said,  "  and  Aunt  Agnes  told  me  the  Doctor 
was  up  at  sunrise  helping  Flora  pack  the  hamper, 
and  growing  a  bit  fretful  because  she  and  Jean 
were  not  quite  so  keen  upon  an  early  rising." 

"  But  you,  Larry!  How  very  disappointed  he 
must  have  been  when  he  found  you  weren't 
going." 

"Hum!"  said  Larry  relighting  his  pipe. 
'  Yes,  I  suppose  —  to  be  sure  he  was.  Natur- 
ally." But  he  did  not  venture  the  singular 
fact  that  his  own  home- stay  ing  had  been  the 
result  of  a  midnight  conference  with  the  Doctor 
himself. 


Chapter  Eight  101 

"  Surely  you  could  have  managed  to  go  some- 
how. The  Doctor  sets  such  great  store  by  your 
presence." 

'  You  didn't  go,"  said  Larry,  and  Rose 
stared,  the  hot  color  sweeping  in  a  lovely  tide 
to  the  very  line  of  her  hair.  For  by  his  tone 
this  frank  visitor  who  was  startlingly  unlike  the 
Larry  of  the  winter,  had  overstepped  the  magic 
ring  of  friendship  in  which  his  winsome  Leddy 
Rose  had  fancied  herself  entrenched.  So  once 
more  a  silence  of  purling  water  and  chirping 
birds  settled  over  the  water-garden  and  once 
more  it  was  Rose  who,  with  her  ready  self- 
possession,  put  an  end  to  constraint.  Rummag- 
ing about  in  her  workbasket  she  brought  to  light 
a  book. 

"  See,  Larry,"  she  smiled,  "  how  much  I 
value  your  Christmas  gift.  It  is  always  here  in 
the  basket  where  I  may  easily  lay  my  hands 
upon  it." 

"  And  the  elemental  still  jars?  " 
'  Yes.    But  like  everything  else  in  life  there 
is  much  to  counteract  the  jars." 

Flushing  a  little,  Larry  took  the  book  and 
opened  it  quite  at  random. 

'  It  is  due  that  I  should  be  your  servant,' ' 
he  read,  an  oddly  grave  note  in  his  quiet  voice, 
"  '  Have  a  thought  for  me,  my  soul,  ever  and 


102  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ever.  Evening  and  morning  I  lie  at  thy  door; 
I  am  the  first  of  thy  lovers,  low,  low! '  '  and 
with  a  flash  of  resolution  in  his  eyes,  Larry 
turned  to  the  busy  worker  beside  him.  "  Oh, 
Rose,  dear,"  he  said  gently,  "  what's  the  use  of 
it  all,  I  wonder,  this  diffidence  of  mine.  See,  it's 
all  written  for  me  here  in  the  song  of  the 
Afghan  lover! " 

"Larry!"  Rose's  voice  was  tragic  and  her 
color  flamed  again  and  left  her  very  white.  "  Oh, 
Larry!" 

Still,  for  all  the  keen  reproach  in  the  girl's 
voice  there  was  a  startled  compassion  in  her 
eyes  that  chilled  Larry  with  foreboding.  Was 
it  Mother  Rose's  gentle  unwillingness  to  hurt 
by  so  much  as  a  word,  that  glimmered  darkly  in 
her  warm,  brown  eyes?  After  all,  with  the  fire- 
lit  memories  of  the  winter,  this  revelation  should 
not  have  startled  her  so,  quaintly  apart  from 
womankind  though  she  was,  unless  —  unless  — 

"  Surely  you  must  have  guessed,  Rose,"  he 
said  a  little  bitterly.  "  All  winter  I  have  lived 
with  the  thought  of  it.  The  firelit  nights  in  the 
music  room,  those  wonderful  old  love  songs  we 
played  together,  even  this  little  book  —  " 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Larry!"  broke  in  Rose  in 
genuine  distress.  "I  —  I  did  not  know.  Truly! 
It  was  all  so  pleasant  —  so  pleasant  and 


Chapter  Eight  103 

friendly."  Her  voice  quivered.  "  Oh,  Larry, 
Larry,  I  am  so  sorry!  Believe  me,  I  did  not 
dream.  I  would  not  have  played  those  old  songs 
with  you  so  often  if  I  had  guessed."  And 
Leddy  Rose's  face  went  suddenly  down  upon  her 
hands,  and  Larry  with  a  dawning  sense  of  ship- 
wreck stared  miserably  across  the  drowsy  wrater 
lilies  at  the  sunset. 

Gentle  Leddy  Rose  inflicting  pain  upon  a 
cherished  friend! 

"  Larry,"  she  said  wistfully,  "  you  have  been 
such  a  good  friend  to  me!  And  I  have  valued 
our  hours  of  companionship  so  much!  Must  we 
spoil  it  all?  Oh,  Larry,"  quick  tragedy  in  her 
voice  again,  "  could  you  not  see  that  marriage 
is  not  for  such  as  I?  " 

"  No,"  said  Larry.     "  Nor  do  I  see  that  - 
even  now." 

Rose  sighed  and  Larry,  looking  up,  saw  that 
the  gravity  of  her  eyes  was  wonderfully  sweet 
and  sympathetic  but  inexorable.  Leaning  for- 
ward he  caught  the  girl's  hands  within  his  own. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  Rose!  "  he  pleaded.  "  Have  the 
firelit  memories  then  meant  nothing  to  you?  Is 
there  after  all  no  love  at  all  in  your  heart  for 
me?" 

"  Larry,  I  do  not  know."  Quick  tears  beaded 
Rose's  lashes  and  once  more  the  troubled  brown 


104  The  Lovable  Meddler 

eyes  warmed  to  compassionate  velvet.  "  The 
thought  of  it  all  is  so  new  —  so  new  and  con- 
fusing. You  were  such  a  kindly  brother,  so 
strong  and  helpful  and  cheering.  I  —  I  can  not 
let  you  go  away  from  me  so  hurt.  If  only  I 
had  known  and  had  warned  you.  Perhaps  I  was 
blind  because  I  have  known  so  surely  that  mar- 
riage is  not  for  me,  that  I  too  must  be  a  soldier 
on  the  line  of  battle,  cheerfully  sacrificing  the 
eternal  destiny  of  woman  even  as  the  brave  little 
soldier  who  bore  me  is  sacrificing  all  that  is  dear 
to  her,  consecrating  my  life  and  my  pittance  of 
cheer  to  my  mother's  home." 

'  You  do  not  know  whether  or  not  you  love 
me?" 

"No  —  " 

"  If  you  loved  me,"  said  Larry  very  quietly, 
"  I  think  vou  would  know.  It  would  be 

•/ 

inevitable." 

"  Larry,  I  can  not  let  myself  love  you !  "  coun- 
tered Rose  in  real  distress.  "  I  must  guard  my 
heart  against  you  and  fight  it  all  away.  Oh, 
there  is  so  much  that  I  must  try  to  make  clear 
to  you!  You  and  your  pleasant  friends  have 
been  welcomed  into  the  very  heart  of  my  home 
life  this  winter.  Surely,  surely  you  must  realize 
how  abnormal  it  is  despite  its  happiness!  " 

"  Yes.    And  each  one  of  us  has  silently  given 


Chapter  Eight  105 

your  mother  and  her  tireless  helper  no  small 
measure  of  reverence  and  respect." 

"  I  know !  I  don't  wonder  the  Doctor  is  so 
proud  of  his  lads.  Kindly,  courteous  gentle- 
men, all  of  them !  I  —  I  don't  know  what  you 
may  think  of  our  way  of  living,  Larry.  We 
have  learned  to  ignore  criticism.  After  all,  it 
is  one  of  the  things  that  have  drawn  us  so  close 
together  and  made  us  so  clannish.  But,  Larry, 
there  are  inner  facts  —  "  Her  voice  faltered  and 
Larry  sat  very  silent  staring  at  the  ashes  of  his 
pipe. 

*  You  would  rather  not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  that.  It  is  all  a  bit  pitiful  and 
I  must  not  give  you  a  chance  to  misunderstand. 

"  Larry,"  she  went  on  presently,  unconscious 
of  the  color  that  surged  darkly  to  his  face  at 
the  touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  when  my 
brave  little  mother  first  shouldered  the  bread- 
winning  burden,  we  all  thought  that  Father 
Weston's  pictures  would  speedily  win  back  for 
us  something  of  the  old-time  prosperity.  But 
the  years  have  gone  by  and  I  —  I  know  that  my 
poor  father  is  foredoomed  to  failure,  to  the 
eternal  tragedy  of  unproductive  ambition. 
Always  he  will  keep  on  trying  and  failing,  and 
always  my  dear  little  mother  will  go  cheerfully 
back  and  forth  —  " 


106          The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  But  even  now,"  broke  in  Larry,  "  there 
is  Sonia  doing  wonderfully  well.  You  don't 
mind  my  speaking  of  it?  And  Marcia  and 
June  all  financially  helpful.  And  the  twins  are 
with  Sonia,  aren't  they?  Surely  your  mother 
might  well  leave  the  burden  of  support  to  such 
competent  daughters!  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  possible.  Seven  years  ago, 
when  the  money  trouble  came,  there  was  a  loan, 
a  very  big  one,  and  the  family  syndicate  is  still 
working  cheerfully  to  pay  it." 

"  But  once  the  loan  is  paid  and  your  sisters  — 
married? " 

Rose  shook  her  head,  a  sudden  shadow  in  her 
eyes. 

"  No,  no,  Larry,"  she  said  gently.  "  Even 
that  doesn't  solve  our  problem  here.  If  the 
girls  all  marry,  the  house  will  be  quiet  and 
somber  and  very  lonely,  and  therefore  I  at  least 
must  stay  to  greet  Mother  Letty  cheerfully  at 
the  close,  and  to  mother  baby  Tavia.  Only  I 
can  do  it.  Ah,  Larry,  don't  you  see?  I  can 
not  desert  my  brave  little  mother  on  the  firing 
line!  It  is  I  to  whom  she  turns  for  everything; 
I  to  whom  she  entrusts  the  sacred  keeping  of 
her  home,  that  it  may  still  remain  a  home  in  the 
truest  sense  without  her.  I  must  keep  that 
trust  inviolate  and  stand  by  her  to  the  end." 


Chapter  Eight  107 

"  But  with  marriage,  with  —  with  the  coopera- 
tion of  others !  Surely  —  Rose  —  " 

But  Father  Weston  abhorred  the  very  notion 
of  subsisting  upon  the  bounty  of  any  stranger 
who  might  one  day  come  into  his  sheltered  life; 
he  had  said  so.  Very  gently  Rose  spoke  of  this, 
too,  coloring  as  she  did  so. 

King  Rodney's  pride!  Larry's  eyes  flashed. 
And  his  chin  grew  very  grim. 

"  And  every  path  of  rescue  leads  to  a  cul-de- 
sac?  "  He  had  grown  very  white.  '  There  is 
no  way  out? " 

Rose  bent  her  head. 

'  There  is  no  way  out.  Oh,  do  you  not  see 
how  pitiful  it  all  is?  Always  my  poor  father 
is  talking  of  how  lavishly  he  will  compensate 
Mother  Letty  \vhen  his  art-ship  comes  in,  of 
how  the  tired  and  busy  days  will  be  over  for 
her  forever.  It  is  a  tragedy  he  is  living,  Larry! 
After  all,  he  is  only  a  child  reaching  out  helpless 
hands  for  a  glittering  bauble  quite  unattainable. 
No,  no,  I  can  not  add  any  selfish  shadows  to 
this  dear  home  life  around  me." 

"  And  have  you  no  thought  for  me?  Of  the 
lonely  hours  ahead  and  my  need  of  you  ? " 

But  the  tearful  brown  eyes  that  met  his  were 
very  brave  and  unfaltering  and  Larry  read 
therein  that  there  was  no  appeal  by  which  he 


108  The  Lovable  Meddler 

might  hope  to  shake  her  great  resolve  of  conse- 
cration. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  dear,"  he  groaned,  "  I  can  not 
give  you  up! " 

"It  —  it  is  not  that  I  do  not  think  of  your 
suffering,"  faltered  Rose.  "  Oh,  I  am  blaming 
myself  so  much  for  it  all  —  "  but  caught  in  a 
wave  of  anger  Larry  wheeled  upon  her,  seeking 
desperately  to  beat  down  her  lofty  courage. 

"  Can  you  not  see  that  the  brunt  of  it  all 
comes  upon  you?"  he  stormed.  'That  your 
youth,  your  strength,  your  individuality,  are 
going  out  in  a  cause  unworthy  of  such  heroism, 
the  daily  pandering  to  a  man's  sordid  life  of  self- 
indulgence?  Can  you  not  see  that  your  stand- 
ards of  love  and  duty  are  too  heroic  for  human 
men  and  women,  that  fanatical  altruism  may 
injure  its  object,  that  you  can  be  kindest  to  your 
father  and  mother  by  forcing  a  family  revolu- 
tion? Turn  your  logical  bread-winner  out  into 
the  world  where  he  may  learn  self-dependence 
and  chivalry  and  the  primal  male  instinct  of 
guarding  his  mate  and  his  young!  Pitiful,  you 
said?  Pitiful  he  is,  indeed,  utterly  selfish, 
utterly  indifferent  to  the  sacrifices  of  his  women- 
kind.  You  see  it  all,  Rose,  through  the  glamor 
of  his  magnetism,  of  your  own  warm  affection 
and  readiness  to  condone,  while  I  —  "  he  choked 


Maddened  by  the  charm  of  her,  Larry  stormed  and  pleaded 
.     As  Rose  listened,  her  face  grew  very  white  and  her 
eyes  blazed  in  an  agony  of  pleading. 


Chapter  Eight  109 

and  Rose  shrank  back  against  the  willow,  with 
cheeks  ablaze  and  eyes  of  hurt  astonishment. 

And  again,  maddened  by  the  charm  of  her, 
Larry  stormed  and  pleaded,  stung  by  the  bitter 
consciousness  that  his  lifeboat  was  drifting  out 
to  sea  with  King  Rodney  at  the  helm,  that  his 
winsome  Leddy  Rose  of  the  moonlit  garden, 
this  girl  of  quaint  gentleness  and  grace,  was  yet 
a  creature  of  adamant  too,  fighting  back  his 
love  and  steeling  her  heart  against  him  in  mis- 
taken loyalty  to  her  kind. 

And  even  as  Rose  watched  and  listened,  her 
face  grew  very  white  and  her  eyes  blazed  in  an 
agony  of  pleading. 

"Oh,  Larry,  Larry,  go!"  she  cried.  'You 
are  not  yourself!  You  are  making  it  very  hard 
for  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  You  are 
right.  I  am  not  myself."  With  a  sigh  he  bent 
and  kissed  her  hand.  "Brave  little  soldier! 
Rose,  dear,  a  lovelorn  sentry  in  the  Legion  of 
Love  salutes  his  superior." 

So  at  last  he  went. 

A  wave  of  dizziness  swept  over  the  girl  and 
she  clung  to  the  trunk  of  the  willow,  trembling. 

Introspection?  When  before  had  gentle  Rose 
felt  the  need  of  it?  Through  the  busy  winter 
crowded  with  untiring  forethought  for  others, 


110          The  Lovable  Meddler 

there  had  been  no  time.  Through  this  unfor- 
gettable afternoon  there  had  been  ever  par- 
amount the  thought  of  Larry's  hurt  and  Larry's 
shipwreck,  of  the  great  harm  her  blindness  had 
all  unwittingly  done  a  cherished  friend;  and 
Self  had  characteristically  had  its  clamor  stilled 
in  the  claims  of  another.  But  now,  with  Larry 
gone,  with  the  vital  consciousness  that  after  all 
she  was  not  merely  a  sympathetic  spectator  in 
this  great  drama  of  love,  but  an  actor,  a  voice 
of  rebellion  awoke  within,  crying  the  truth,  and 
a  wave  of  crimson  dyed  her  face  and  throat. 
With  a  sob  she  sank  to  her  knees,  crying  piti- 
fully. Fighting  for  self-control,  with  one  arm 
held  before  her  as  if  to  ward  off  some  terrible 
realization,  Rose  fell  forward  upon  the  grass, 
sobbing  her  heart  out  upon  the  altar  of 
renunciation. 

In  the  west  the  solar  peacock  who  had  spread 
his  gorgeous  f  antail  of  flame  and  color  to  dazzle 
the  world,  suddenly  found  his  splendor  veiled 
by  a  squadron  of  storm  clouds.  A  gray  twilight 
heavy  with  the  portent  of  summer  rain,  spread 
velvet  wings  over  the  quiet  water-garden;  water 
lilies  one  by  one  furled  drowsy  sails  to  sleep  at 
anchor  on  the  darkening  pools;  and  a  jagged 
scimitar  of  lightning,  brilliantly  jeweled,  blazed 
above  the  tossing  willow.  From  the  clouds  came 


Chapter  Eight  111 

the  quick  patter  of  rain  and  Rose  sat  up,  dazed 
and  frightened,  brushing  the  drops  from  her 
face  in  dismay. 

"I  —  I  must  have  fainted!  "  she  thought  with 
a  shudder.  "  How  dark  and  rainy  and  —  lonely 
it  has  grown!  The  Doctor's  picnickers  will  be 
drenched." 

Thus  with  a  faint  sigh  Rose  once  more  took 
up  her  life  of  thought  for  others  and  went 
scurrying  houseward  through  the  rain  to  find  in 
baby  Tavia  her  initial  test  of  courage. 

"  Mother  Rose,"  came  the  plea  from  a  ham- 
mock, "  can't  I  maybe  sit  on  your  lap  and  hear 
God  pour  the  rain  through  the  trees?  Is  this 
the  kind  of  rain  what  Lisbeth  calls  drippin's? 
And  maybe,  sister,  you'll  tell  me  again  how  poor, 
poor  Mr.  Bird  came  home  that  awful  rainy  night 
and  found  his  nest  all  wet." 

So,  with  a  world  of  tossing,  rain-swept 
branches  before  them,  Sister  Rose  bravely  told 
the  story. 

"  And  so,"  she  finished,  "  there  were  the  nests 
all  wet  and  sodden  and  not  at  all  homelike  —  " 

'  Well,"  broke  in  the  practical  Tavia,  "  why 
didn't  the  birds  just  build  'em  with  lids  on, 
that's  what  I  want  to  know!  " 

But  Rose  had  not  heard. 

"  Remember,     sweetheart,"     she     said     very 


112          The  Lovable  Meddler 

gently,  "  always  make  the  best  of  things  as  the 
birds  did.  And  if  your  nest  is  not  quite  so 
pleasant  as  it  was  before,  be  patient  and  wait. 
In  God's  own  time  it  will  be  dry  again! " 

With  a  quick  movement  of  suspicion  Tavia 
wiped  something  from  her  cheek  and  sat 
upright. 

"  Mother  Rose,"  she  whispered,  slipping  a 
warm  and  comforting  little  hand  into  her  sister's, 
"  your  eyes  are  rainin'  too,  and  they  most  always 
never  do! " 

But  Rose  only  laughed  forlornly  and  caught 
the  child  in  her  arms. 

Out  of  the  rain-swept  dusk  came  presently  the 
whir  of  motors,  of  hoarse  toots  and  voices 
grumbling  about  the  rain.  Two  vehicles  with 
flapping  curtains  rolled  swiftly  up  the  Weston 
driveway  with  the  Doctor's  car  well  on  ahead 
and  Jerry  at  the  wheel  of  Grant's.  Gloomily 
triumphant  to-night,  this  puffball  of  the  Wind 
of  Fate,  for  having  fallen  into  a  pond  in  the 
search  for  water  fern,  he  was  the  only  one  who 
did  not  mind  the  shower. 

"  Now,  Agnes,"  came  the  Doctor's  exasper- 
ated voice  from  the  driveway,  "  ye  can  just  see 
for  yourself  what  a  whig-ma-doodle  figure  I  cut ! 
'Tis  verra  plain  I  wasn't  built  for  white  flan- 
nels. Didn't  Bennie  and  I  hobnob  together 


Chapter  Eight  113 

about  the  plannin'  of  this  verra  suit  for  my 
picnic  so  that  I  could  go  struttin'  and  a-pea- 
cockin'  about  easy  and  handsome  in  flannels  like 
that  rascal  of  a  Larry!  And  would  ye  just 
look  at  me  now!  Jerry,  I  canna  for  the  life 
of  me  see  that  ye're  any  more  of  a  puffball  of 
Fate  than  I  am  myself,  if  ye  did  tumble  hiltie- 
skiltie  into  the  pond  of  a  sudden.  I  have  shrunk 
beyond  words  just  from  rescuin'  ye  and  drivin' 
home  in  the  rain  and,  Agnes,  would  ye  believe 
it,  in  spite  of  all  the  rest  of  my  general  shrink- 
age, 'my  old  knees  have  ballooned  more  than  ye 
would  deem  possible.  It's  so  mortal  weird  and 
uncanny  I  just  canna  understand  it." 

"  And  now,  Tavia,"  said  Mother  Rose,  "  we 
must  look  up  some  dry  things  for  the  girls." 


Chapter  9 

In  which  Larry  greets  the  dawn  of  another  day 
as  Black  Donald  did  not 

T  IKE  a  black-browed  satyr  came  the  storm 
-"  again  at  midnight,  sweeping  with  a  roar  of 
wind  and  rain  to  the  north  where  a  horseman 
galloped  furiously  along  a  lonely  country  road. 
For  hours  this  rider  of  the  night  had  lain  face 
downward  upon  the  wet  ground  beneath  a  tree, 
with  his  horse  nosing  plaintively  at  his  rumpled 
clothes  and  hair. 

So  Black  Donald  had  once  ridden  through 
the  turmoil  of  a  Highland  night  to  take  his  life 
with  the  dawning  of  the  morrow,  but  as  yet  the 
temptation  to  shed  the  mortal  integument  in 
the  fashion  of  his  ancestor  had  not  brought  its 
lure  to  Larry. 

Bright  above  the  mountains  to  the  west  snaked 
the  satyr's  bayonet  of  steel  and,  blinded,  Rajah 
plunged  with  a  frightened  whinny  into  a  forest 
by  the  road.  Rain  drummed  overhead,  shower- 
ing through  the  branches;  the  satyr  whistled 
eerily,  mingling  the  din  of  thunder  and  the 
sweep  of  wind  and  rain  into  an  awful  music,  but 

114 


Chapter  Nine  115 

though  tree  and  bramble  flung  arms  across  his 
path,  Larry  brushed  them  fiercely  aside,  uncon- 
scious of  his  sodden  clothes  or  the  bleeding 
scratches  on  his  hands  and  face. 

No  word  of  Rose's  was  ever  lightly  spoken. 
From  her  lofty  resolve  of  consecration  there  was 
no  recall  and  Larry  knew  that  she  would  pass 
unfalteringly  into  the  white  fire  of  sacrifice 
like  a  martyr  of  old,  calm,  courageous  and 
selfless  to  the  end,  wherefore  he  — 

But  now  with  a  shock  came  vividly  back  to 
Larry  the  Highland  legend  of  Black  Donald's 
ride  through  the  wind  and  rain.  And  Donald, 
the  young  chief  of  the  family  clan,  had  killed 
himself,  for  love,  with  the  dawn. 

He  had  found  the  one  way  out. 

To  the  singing  overtone  of  a  Titan  wind  and 
the  crack  of  falling  branches,  Rajah  came  at 
last  to  a  steep  and  wooded  slope  and  trampling 
heavily  began  to  climb.  The  satyr's  bayonet 
sent  a  tree  crashing  to  its  fate  ahead  and  terri- 
fied, Rajah  leaped  and  wheeled,  snorting  in 
terror.  For  an  instant  Larry  saw  the  valley 
far  below  bright  in  a  panoramic  flash  of  revela- 
tion, then  Rajah  bolted  down  through  the  inky 
shadows  of  the  mountainside  in  a  panic,  sliding 
and  lurching  fearfully  along  or  flinging  fiercely 
back  upon  his  haunches. 


116  The  Lovable  Meddler 

So  Larry  came  again  into  the  valley.  But 
the  music  of  the  storm  was  now  a  devil-chant  of 
invitation. 

Larry  brushed  the  rain  from  his  face  and 
smiled.  There  was  one  way  out  .  .  .  Black 
Donald  had  found  it. 


In  the  library  of  the  Music  Box,  Lloyd 
Ridgely,  Larry's  young  assistant,  consulted  his 
watch  and  frowned.  Its  hands  were  pointing 
now  to  ten  minutes  of  two. 

"Odd!"  he  reflected  uneasily.  "It  isn't 
like  Larry  to  keep  Rajah  out  so  late  through  all 
the  storm." 

He  laid  aside  the  book  he  had  been  reading 
since  Grant  and  Quin  had  sleepily  deserted  him 
with  the  first  lulling  of  the  storm,  filled  his  pipe 
and,  smoking,  began  to  play  Canfield.  Finding 
himself  building  with  duplicate  colors,  he  rose 
irritably  and  walked  to  the  window,  glancing  at 
the  broken  tree  boughs  in  the  street  below. 
Overhead  the  sky  was  clearing  rapidly.  Already 
a  few  stars  gleamed  mistily  through  the  rain- 
washed  darkness  of  the  night. 

"  Crazy  stunt,"  he  grumbled,  "  to  go  riding 
off  so  early  in  the  rain.  Great  Guns!  What  a 
wind  to  strip  the  trees  so! " 

The  telephone  feebly  clicked  and  whirred,  and 


Chapter  Mne  117 

eagerly  on  the  heels  of  Lloyd's  hello,  came  the 
Doctor's  anxious  voice. 

"  Larry  has  not  come  in  yet,  eh,  Lloyd? 
.  Hum  ...  I  canna  see  why  the 
daffy  lad  should  have  taken  it  into  his  head  to 
trot  about  in  such  a  fearful  storm.  I  have  been 
pesterin'  Central  to  give  me  a  connection  with 
ye  this  half  hour  .  .  .  No,  we  have  all  been 
scallawaggin'  about  the  house  since  midnight, 
with  Caesar  and  Luath  a-howlin'  with  fear  and 
Ginger  almost  kickin'  the  barn  down  when  the 
thunder  cracked.  A  wild  night,  eh,  Lloyd? 
.  .  .  Can  ye  mayhap  see  the  blaze  of  old  Bill 
Stover's  barn  over  Cleton  way?  I  dinna  doubt 
ye  can  see  it  well  from  your  kitchen  windows  —  " 
The  Doctor's  voice  trailed  off  queerly.  "  Ye  will 
not  mind  callin'  me,  Lloyd,"  it  came  again 
strongly,  "when  Larry  comes  in?  The  Leddy 
Glenmuir  is  pesterin'  fearful  about  him  and  I 
have  not  been  easy  myself." 

At  the  click  of  a  latchkey  in  the  outer  door 
as  the  Doctor  rang  off,  Lloyd  hurried  to  the 
dining  room  in  quick  relief,  halting  aghast  by 
the  table.  Larry  stood  in  the  hall  doorway,  his 
face  and  hands  bleeding  from  a  score  of 
scratches,  his  clothing  drenched  and  torn. 
Lloyd's  dark,  boyish  face  went  suddenly  as 
white  as  his  chief's. 


118  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  For  God's  sake,  Larry,"  he  exclaimed  in 
keen  alarm,  "what  is  it?  Anything  wrong? 
The  lightning  didn't  get  you,  did  it?  Here," 
shakily  pouring  some  brandy  from  a  decanter 
upon  the  sideboard,  "  drink  this.  It  will  brace 
you  up  a  bit." 

Mechanically  Larry  obeyed.  As  he  set  his 
glass  down,  it  clinked  against  a  bowl  of  water 
lilies  Rose  had  picked  for  Grant;  for  the  first 
time  now  he  was  conscious  of  their  perfume. 
Shuddering  he  swept  the  bowl  of  flowers  from 
the  table  to  the  floor. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  with  an  effort.  "  The 
brandy  helped." 

And  for  all  Lloyd  glanced  at  the  scattered 
lilies  and  back  again  at  his  chief,  he  loyally 
refrained  from  further  question. 

From  the  library  came  again  the  click  and 
whir  of  the  telephone  and  as  Lloyd  answered  it 
the  voice  of  Gallagher,  the  liveryman,  came 
excitedly  over  the  wire. 

"  Gallagher  says  Rajah  has  just  come  in  by 
himself  in  nasty  shape,"  said  Lloyd  reappearing. 
"  Says  he's  sent  for  a  veterinarian.  Did  he 
throw  you,  Larry? " 

"  No,"  said  Larry,  avoiding  Lloyd's  eyes,  "  I 
left  him  outside  just  now.  He  must  have  gal- 
loped off." 


Chapter  Nine  119 

Puzzled,  Lloyd  watched  his  chief  disappear 
within  his  bedroom.  Then  he  seized  his  cap 
and  went  hurrying  through  the  quiet  streets  to 
the  Hame  o'  Roses. 

Now  paramount  in  Lloyd's  mind  as  he  swung 
rapidly  along  Auburnia  Avenue  was  the  relieved 
assurance  that  his  chief  was  in  bed  after  the 
unwonted  turbulence  of  the  night;  that  here  at 
least  was  something  upon  which  he  might  put 
the  Doctor's  mind  at  rest.  Had  he  known  that 
Larry  too  had  furtively  left  the  Music  Box  it 
would  have  fired  his  keen  disquietude  anew. 


Larry's  wish  to  ride  off  again  into  the  night 
after  his  visit  to  the  Music  Box,  had  been 
checkmated  by  Rajah's  frightened  bolt  for  the 
stable.  Now  he  was  walking  again  to  the  north, 
certain  of  nothing  save  the  final  goal  of  his 
resolve,  all  the  voices  of  the  night  calling  him  to 
the  quiet  of  Rose's  water-garden.  At  first,  eager 
for  the  open  country  and  the  dark,  he  had 
ignored  the  calling  voices,  only  to  halt  at  last, 
shaken  by  the  memory  of  the  afternoon,  beside 
the  hedge  of  currants. 

High  above  the  water-garden  hung  a  storm- 
tardy  moon,  serenely  silvering  pool  and  cascade, 
glinting  here  and  there  among  the  rain-bright 


120          The  Lovable  Meddler 

sedge  and  reeds.  Moon-tinsel  glimmered  fit- 
fully among  the  drowsy  float  of  water  lilies 
but  rush  and  flag  were  bent  and  broken  by  the 
storm  and  the  giant  willow  trailed  a  wind- 
wrecked  plume  of  green. 

From  a  rustic  bench  among  the  shadows 
Larry  watched  the  swaying  curtains  of  Rose's 
room.  How  wonderfully  quiet  this  dear  haunt 
of  Leddy  Rose!  Only  the  musical  purl  of  the 
pool  cascades  and  the  plaintive  monody  of  the 
frogs  in  the  marshland  to  the  north  disturbed 
the  peace  and  hush  of  the  moonlit  stillness. 
How  long  he  sat  staring  at  the  phantom  mosaic 
of  moon  and  tree  shadow  mirrored  upon  the 
surface  of  the  pool  ahead  he  did  not  know,  but, 
rousing,  with  the  thought  that  he  must  be  up  and 
away  before  the  dawn,  he  saw  that  which  sent 
rebellion  surging  through  his  veins  afresh. 

On  the  farther  side  of  the  moon-bright  pool, 
in  a  gown  of  white  wool  girdled  loosely  with  a 
silken  cord,  stood  Rose  herself,  her  face  strained 
and  white  in  the  moonlight,  her  fair  hair  hang- 
ing in  a  heavy  braid  below  her  waist.  Some 
sweet,  white-habited  priestess  of  the  summer 
moon,  she  seemed,  and  Larry,  caught  in  the 
overwhelming  consciousness  of  her  nearness, 
stumbled  from  the  shadows,  calling  her  name. 

Startled,  the  girl  drew  back. 


Chapter  Nine  121 

"  Larry,"   she  said,   "  you  —  you   frightened 
me!     I  did  not  know  you  were  here. 
Oh,  Larry,  my  poor  boy,  what  is  it?     There  is 
blood  on  your  face  and  your  clothes  are  wet 
and  torn." 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Larry.  "  I  was  riding 
in  the  storm." 

Rose  shuddered. 

"  It  has  been  a  terrible  night,"  she  said.  "  It 
has  seemed  as  if  the  ghosts  of  terrible  things 
were  abroad  in  the  storm.  I  could  not  sleep 
and  the  garden  looked  so  peaceful  from  my 
window.  You  have  been  here  long? " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Larry  truthfully  and 
Rose  wheeled,  white  and  shaking. 

"  Oh,  Larry,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  dark  and 
tragic  in  the  colorless  oval  of  her  face,  "  why 
have  you  come  here  in  the  night  so  white  and 
stern  and  terrible  ?  I  —  I  can  never  forget  you 
as  you  look  now.  There  is  something  about  it  all 
that  frightens  me.  Larry,"  she  went  on  hur- 
riedly, "  I  can  not  bear  to  think  that  such 
terrible  suffering  has  come  to  you  through  me. 
Oh,  why  was  I  so  blind  and  selfish? "  In  a 
panic  of  remorse  at  the  memory  of  the  winter, 
Rose  swayed  and  would  have  fallen  had  Larry 
not  leaped  to  her  side.  And  even  with  his  arm 
about  her  shoulders,  she  fell  forward  upon  her 


122          The  Lovable  Meddler 

knees  with  a  sob,  crying  out  her  grief  for  his 
hurt. 

Very  gently  Larry  helped  her  to  her  feet. 
With  a  cry  of  horror  Rose  recoiled.  For  there 
upon  the  grass  between  them,  glinting  evilly  in 
the  moonlight,  lay  the  object  of  Larry's  return 
to  the  Music  Box,  a  telltale  thing  of  steel  and 
glitter  tumbled  from  his  pocket  by  his  leap  to 
Rose. 

With  flaming  cheeks  the  girl  bent  and  seized 
the  weapon  from  the  ground,  her  darkly-fringed 
eyes  passionate  wells  of  horror  and  reproach. 

"  Oh,  Larry,"  she  cried  pityingly,  "  surely 
you  are  brave  enough  to  live  your  life  as  it  may 
come  to  you !  " 

"  No,"  said  Larry,  "  I  am  not." 

Rose  wheeled  upon  him  in  rebuke.  If  Larry 
had  come  to  view  this  girl  before  him  as  a  calm 
and  gentle  saint  eternally  immune  from  all  the 
human  turbulences  of  mind  and  body,  now  as 
her  impassioned  words  assailed  him,  he  was  to 
learn  the  truth.  No  longer  the  winsome,  gentle, 
cheery  Rose  of  the  winter  —  no  calm  and  blood- 
less saint ;  instead  a  woman  intensely  human  and 
alive.  Inexorable  Leddy  Rose's  standards  of 
love  and  duty;  tender,  sweet  and  wistful  her 
gentle  optimism  and  lofty  ideals,  seeming  to  set 
her  divinely  apart  from  life  itself;  but  under- 


Chapter  Nine  123 

lying  them  after  all  was  the  passionate  surge  of 
humanness. 

Now  for  all  the  sting  of  her  censure,  there 
was  a  great  fear  in  Rose's  eyes,  and  presently 
she  turned  with  a  shudder  and  fiercely  flung  the 
revolver  into  the  pool  beside  her.  A  frog 
leaped  from  the  leaves  of  the  parrot's  feather 
along  the  edge,  green  and  glistening  in  the 
moonlight,  and  as  his  frightened  dive  broke  the 
water-mirror  into  ever  widening  circles,  the  eyes 
of  these  two  met.  Clear  and  unfaltering  the 
eyes  of  Rose,  but  the  look  that  came  to  Larry's 
was  one  of  shame. 

"  After  all,  Larry,"  she  said  bravely,  "  it  —  it 
is  not  because  I  do  not  love  you  that  I  must 
bring  to  you  this  pain  and  sorrow.  That  knowl- 
edge came  to  me  so  strongly  this  afternoon  after 
you  had  gone  —  " 

But  Larry  was  beside  her  now  in  startled 
comprehension. 

"  Surely,"  he  said,  "  you  do  not  —  can  not 
mean  —  " 

But  Rose's  steadfast  eyes,  scorning  to  veil 
the  truth,  were  answer  enough  and  Larry 
roughly  caught  her  hands.  Then,  seeing  again 
in  her  face  that  quick  quiver  of  hurt  and  pity  for 
himself  he  groaned  in  an  agony  of  foreboding. 

"  And  your  love  for  me  makes  no  difference?  " 


124  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Rose  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  can  you  not  see  that  it  is  all  very  hard 
for  me  too?"  she  demanded  passionately. 
'  To-night  I  lay  awake  for  hours  fighting  it  all 
out.  .  *  .  Larry,  you  must  not  feel  again  as 
you  have  felt  to-night  about  life  —  and  —  and 
death.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  value  life's  great 
mysteries  so  lightly.  I  must  go  on  living  and 
fighting  —  and  so  must  you.  You  will 
promise? " 

And  looking  up,  Larry  caught  in  Rose's  eyes 
the  shadow  of  her  sacrifice,  and  the  memory  of 
her  eternal  cheeriness  came  over  him  to  shame 
his  hour  of  madness  anew. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said;  "I  have  been  a 
very  great  coward." 

"  And  you  will  promise?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Larry  humbly.  "  I  too  will  live 
and  fight.  I  will  go  away,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  Perhaps  in  time  I  may  come  to  see  that  you 
are  right.  I  —  I  can  not  see  that  now." 

Rose  sighed. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  have  you  go,"  she  said 
with  white  lips,  "  but  it  is  better  so." 

The  shadows  of  the  moon  faded  mystically 
into  gray;  ghost-like  through  the  velvet  still- 
ness, rush  and  flag  and  sedge  bent  rustling 
spires  in  orison  to  the  morning  wind.  From  the 


Chapter  Nine  125 

willow  came  the  first  sweet  bird  call  of  the  day, 
then  faint  through  the  trees  came  the  opaline 
flush  of  dawn,  a  rose-pearl  oriflamme  of  the 
vanguard  of  Aurora. 


Chapter  10 

Tells  how  the  Doctor  took  a  hand  in  his  nephew's 

wooing  and  how  he  closed  the  studio 

door  behind  him 

|H,  Peggy,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor  pet- 
ulantly, "  I  just  canna  see  how  ye  contrive 
to  stumble  so  frequent.  Deil  take  it,  ye  would 
stumble  head  over  kerturby  over  a  shadow  if 
I  did  not  drive  around  it!"  And  the  Doctor, 
frowning,  threaded  his  way  among  the  storm 
litter  of  the  night  before,  staring  glumly  about 
him. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  ye  to  shake  a  leg,  Peggy? "  he 
demanded  with  an  irritable  tug  at  the  reins. 
"  A  verra  indifferent  sort  of  person  I  may  be 
myself,  Peggy,  but  the  Leddy  Glenmuir's  right. 
There's  no  doubt  at  all  in  my  noddle  this  mornin' 
that  ye're  a  verra  indifferent  sort  of  nag." 

Peggy  flicked  unbelieving  ears,  but  the  Doc- 
tor's mood  was  very  black  and  he  recanted  none 
of  it.  Moreover,  he  morosely  urged  the 
aggrieved  mare  into  a  grotesque  gallop,  halting 
at  last  at  the  Westons  with  a  biting  comment. 

"  I  have  known  bullfrogs  with  a  more  grace- 

126 


Chapter  Ten  127 

ful  gallop,  Peggy ! "  he  sniffed  and  swung  off 
moodily  up  the  walk. 

Through  a  window  in  the  east  wing,  he  caught 
sight  of  Rose  and  charging  through  the  open 
screen  door  without  the  formality  of  a  knock, 
confronted  her  with  flashing  eyes  and  lines  of 
grim  reproof  about  his  mouth. 

"  Oh,  Leddy  Rose !  "  he  blurted,  diving  char- 
acteristically into  the  heart  of  his  errand,  "  what 
have  ye  gone  and  done  to  my  poor  lad? " 

Rose  colored  faintly  and  the  Doctor  went  on 
in  stern  rebuke. 

'  What  with  him  a-scallawaggin'  about  all 
night  in  the  storm  and  homin'  again  all  dazed 
and  queer  with  his  face  a-bleedin'  and  Rajah 
almost  dolt  with  fear,  I  just  knew  well  enough 
the  poor  lad's  sweetheartin'  had  not  gone 
guid-" 

"  I  did  not  think  you  knew  —  " 

"  Didn't  Lloyd  come  chasin'  to  the  Hame  so 
white  and  shaky  I  had  to  doctor  him  before  he 
could  tell  me  of  my  poor  lad  smashin'  the  bowl 
of  lilies  ye  gave  to  Grant?  .  .  .  Oh,  lassie, 
I  just  winna  have  ye  cruel  to  Larry.  He's  my 
own  lad,  with  just  such  a  spot  in  my  heart  as 
I  would  gie  my  own  son." 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Rose.  "  And  he  is  worth 
all  you  give  him." 


128          The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Then  why,"  demanded  the  Doctor,  "  canna 
ye  help  me  in  the  givin'?  There  is  no  one  but 
yourself  can  give  the  poor  lad  his  heart's  desire. 
Oh,  Leddy  Rose,  I  am  sorely  displeased  with 
ye.  Ye  will  not  find  such  another  lad  anywhere 
in  God's  world.  He  is  so  kindly-humored  and 
so  loyal  with  all  his  wild  Highland  blood,  and 
Cupid  himself  could  not  find  ye  such  a  braw, 
faithful,  earnest  lover.  Canna  ye  have  a  bit 
pity  upon  the  lad's  lonely  heart? " 

White  and  tired  Rose  turned  away  to  the 
window. 

"  Dinna  ye  care  a  boddle  for  the  poor  lad?  " 
asked  the  Doctor  bitterly. 

Rose  bit  her  lips  courageously  and  stared 
through  the  window  at  the  Doctor's  mare  drows- 
ing in  the  morning  sunlight,  knee-deep  in  broken 
boughs,  but  the  tranquil  picture  grew  blurred 
and  indistinct,  and  turning  she  wiped  away  her 
tears,  owning  her  love  for  Larry  with  a  swift 
flash  of  candor,  with  eyes  from  whose  wistful 
velvet  the  Doctor  turned  away. 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  not  warn  him? "  she  cried 
passionately.  "  Surely  you  knew  better  than 
anyone  else.  Could  you  not  have  told  him  that 
marriage  is  not  for  such  as  I?  " 

"  And  why,  I  would  have  ye  tell  me,  is  not 
marriage  for  the  likes  of  you,  Leddy  Rose  ? " 


Chapter  Ten  129 

flamed  the  Doctor,  artfully  misunderstanding. 
"  What  with  the  gentle  mother-heart  of  ye  and 
the  wonderful,  caressin'  patience  of  all  ye  do, 
'tis  such  a  bit  of  bright,  warmin'  sunlight  as  a 
tired  and  lonely  man  needs  in  his  home.  There 
is  no  lady  in  the  land  so  fit."  The  Doctor's 
eyes  grew  moist.  '  Ye  were  a  sweet,  flower- 
faced  bairn,  Leddy  Rose,  and  a  winsome  lass, 
and  I  have  never  met  in  all  my  life  such  a 
loyal,  tireless,  sunny-hearted  daughter,  but  now 
I  would  see  ye  as  a  woman  with  the  destiny  of 
a  woman,  as  a  wife  for  my  poor  Larry  and  in 
God's  guid  time  such  a  mother  as  does  not  come 
to  bairns  once  in  a  century.  If  I  was  told  to 
pick  a  wife  for  the  angel  Gabriel,  I  would  pick 
yourself. 

"It  ne'er  was  wealth,  it  ne'er  was  wealth 
That  coft  contentment,  peace  and  pleasure: 
The  bands  and  bliss  of  mutual  love 
O!  that's  the  chief est  warld's  treasure! 

"  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  it,"  finished  the 
Doctor  fretfully,  "  and  I  winna  rest  content 
until  Larry  calls  ye  wife." 

"  It  is  not  that  I  do  not  see  that  marriage  is 
the  natural  way  of  living,"  countered  Rose, 
"  and  surely  if  love  can  make  a  wife  and  mother, 


130          The  Lovable  Meddler 

I  could  do  that  too.  It  —  it  is  my  duty  to 
others." 

Now  this  was  the  very  admission  for  which 
the  Doctor  had  waited,  and  with  it  the  storm 
broke  in  earnest.  However  indifferently  Rose 
had  viewed  her  life  of  sacrifice,  she  learned  its 
import  now.  Bitingly  the  Doctor  flayed  King 
Rodney.  Swept  into  imprudence  by  anger  and 
disappointment  and  his  keen  regard  for  Larry, 
he  bared  the  ugly  pivot  upon  which  the 
abnormality  of  her  family  life  had  hung.  Rose 
listened  with  burning  face,  but  she  said  nothing. 
For  after  all,  the  vagaries  of  the  Doctor's 
tongue  were  already  woefully  familiar  and  her 
warm  affection  for  the  offender  condoned  much. 
Unsteadily  she  slipped  into  a  chair  by  the  win- 
dow, the  Doctor  towering  wrathfully  above  her. 

"  Duty  to  others !  "  he  stormed.  "  Your  con- 
ception of  duty  narrows  down  to  panderin'  to 
that  thingumaderry  of  a  man  who  calls  himself 
an  artist.  There  are  some,  Leddy  Rose,"  went 
on  the  Doctor  fiercely,  mixing  metaphors  in  his 
excitement,  "  who  would  not  recognize  the  feel 
of  duty  if  ye  dropped  'em  full  into  a  pond  of  it, 
and  there  are  others  who  go  a-trollin'  for  a 
pebble  of  duty  with  a  snowshovel,  fearful  of 
missin*  it.  Your  father  is  the  one  and  yourself 
the  other.  Dinna  talk  to  me  of  duty,  Rose,  lass, 


Chapter  Ten  131 

or  I  winna  keep  my  temper  and  my  tongue  in 
tow." 

Quite  unconscious  of  the  humor  of  this  final 
statement,  the  Doctor  halted.  Somehow  he  had 
fancied  he  could  shake  her  resolution  by  baring 
ugly  truths,  but  now  as  he  looked  down  at  her 
his  self-assurance  weakened.  Stung  by  the 
memory  of  the  firelit  hours  in  the  music  room, 
he  fell  desperately  to  pleading  Larry's  suit,  his 
quaint  diction,  broadly  Scotch  now,  colored  with 
an  irresistible  eloquence  and  warmth.  All  the 
magnetic  force  of  his  personality  was  playing 
powerfully  upon  his  victim,  but  though  Rose 
listened,  thrilled  indescribably  by  his  loyalty  to 
Larry,  her  eyes  at  the  end  were  firm  and  sor- 
rowful, wherefore  the  Doctor's  self-control 
deserted  him  entirely. 

'  Ye  will  wed  the  poor  lad,  then,  Leddy 
Rose? "  he  thundered. 

"  I  can  not!  "  said  Rose  and  the  Doctor's  eyes 
shot  fire.  Unnerved  by  the  powerful  conflict  of 
will,  the  girl  shrank  back  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands  with  a  sob.  Instantly  the  Doctor 
was  beside  her,  the  current  of  his  mood  changing 
with  characteristic  swiftness. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Leddy  Rose !  "  he  said  remorse- 
fully, a  wealth  of  compassionate  tenderness  in 
his  voice.  "  I  would  not  hurt  ye  so  for  all 


132          The  Lovable  Meddler 

Christendom.  What  with  my  lashin'  about  so 
fearful  with  my  clackin'  tongue,  I  have  just 
fair  forgotten  myself.  Dinna  mind  me,  lassie. 
I  am  such  a  meddlesome  old  sawbones  as  ye 
winna  meet  again  in  a  century,  but  dinna  forget, 
child,  that  I  have  the  welfare  of  both  yourself 
and  Larry  verra  close  to  my  heart,  and  I  must 
tell  ye  now  while  I'm  about  it  that  I  could  not 
say  which  of  ye  I  care  for  most.  Come,  come, 
Leddy  Rose,  I  winna  have  ye  cry  so  hard. 
Every  sob  is  cuttin'  me  sorely  with  reproach.  Ye 
canna  help  seein'  your  duty  so  queerly,  I  take 
it,  and  I  canna  help  meddlin'.  'Tis  the  way  of 
the  two  of  us,  but  I  will  not  pester  ye  any  more, 
lass.  God  knows  I  have  meddled  too  much 
already.  Leddy  Rose,  I  would  have  ye  accept 
the  remorseful  apologies  of  a  verra  wicked- 
tempered  man  who  canna  control  his  tongue  or 
his  temper  or  his  meddlesome,  matchmakin' 
ways ! " 

And  with  a  terrible  rasp  of  his  throat  he  was 
gone,  marching  with  set  lips  through  the  ram- 
bling file  of  rooms  to  the  studio,  where  he 
entered  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Now  what  occurred  behind  the  closed  door 
of  Rodney's  studio  was  not  known  for  many 
and  many  a  day  thereafter,  but  very  shortly  the 
Doctor  emerged  and  drove  away,  and  from  the 


Chapter  Ten  133 

invaded   sanctum   came   a   hysterical   summons 
for  nerve  medicine. 

'  There's  no  doubt  in  my  sinful  mind,  Peggy," 
muttered  the  Doctor  fiercely  as  he  drove  away, 
"  that  Rodney's  subconscious  mind  will  trick  him 
into  paintin'  with  blacks  and  purples  this  day, 
and  maybe  *  tonal  bisters  '  !  " 

And  a  little  later  in  melancholy  review: 
"  Oh,  Peggy,  lass,  I  canna  help  thinkin'  of 
my  poor  Leddy  Rose  with  her  lovely  face  so 
white  and  her  eyes  so  mortal  tragic.  Deil  take 
it,  I  am  sorely  displeased  with  myself.  I  fancied 
I  would  drive  away  from  my  bickerin'  all  set 
up  with  a  delightful  sense  of  my  own  importance 
as  a  diplomat,  and  I  have  conducted  myself  with 
characteristic  flightiness  and  sinful  presumption. 
Here  I  have  been  flamin'  about  an  old  friend's 
house  —  I'm  meanin'  Letty,  ye  mind,  Peggy !  — 
like  a  demented  skyrocket,  seekin*  with  my 
sparks  and  my  spouts  of  flame  and  all  the  other 
whirligigums  to  dazzle  the  dear  Leddy  Rose  into 
surrender;  and  with  all  my  fearful  fireworks  I 
have  only  gone  and  hurt  the  poor  lass  without 
helpin'  Larry.  Now  that  my  rocketin'  is  over 
and  the  sticks  are  fallin'  down  and  the  smoke 
of  'em  has  besmirched  my  self-respect  with 
shame,  I  dinna  feel  so  proud  and  sinful  about 
my  hand  in  Larry's  wooinV 


134  The  Lovable  Meddler 

And  all  this  he  repeated  later  to  Mrs. 
Glenmuir. 

"  Oh,  Agnes,  lass,"  he  blurted  out  in  bitter 
remorse  at  the  end,  "  I  canna  say  I  have  been 
so  verra  successful  with  my  artful  Cupidin'. 
Would  that  my  peck  o'  maut  had  spilled  itself 
before  ever  it  foamed  up  so  high  and  drowned 
the  happiness  of  my  poor  lad!  " 


Chapter  11 
Tells  of  a  sunrise  gallop  along  the  River  Road 

rriHROUGH  the  gray  quiet  of  the  dawn 
•*•  loomed  the  Doctor's  elms,  locking  dew- 
hung  branches  in  the  morning  wind.  From  the 
driveway,  like  an  elfin  flute  came  the  first 
faint  music  of  the  bird-chimes  and  with  it  came 
Jean,  trimly  habited  in  blue,  riding  Ginger 
noiselessly  over  the  grass  along  the  driveway  to 
the  street. 

A  horseman  turning  into  Auburnia  Avenue  at 
the  block  below,  waved  his  riding  crop  to  the 
girl,  and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  Jean  galloped 
to  meet  him. 

"  Larry,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  late.  Did 
you  wait  very  long  at  the  bridge  for  me?  " 

"  No,"  said  Larry.  "  I  was  a  bit  restless  and 
rode  straight  up  to  meet  you." 

Jean  glanced  furtively  at  her  cousin's  face  as 
they  galloped  through  the  silent  city  to  the 
River  Road.  It  was  the  first  of  their  dawn- 
rides  since  the  storm  but,  finely  considerate, 
Jean  permitted  herself  no  reference  to  the  turbu- 
lence of  Larry's  week. 

135 


136          The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  How  wonderfully  fresh  and  cool  it  is  this 
morning,  Larry!  And  how  gray  and  tranquil 
the  sky  and  river!  What  prodigality  it  is  to 
forego  a  sunrise !  " 

Larry  nodded. 

"  It's  a  bit  of  a  farewell  gallop,  too,  this  time," 
he  said,  looking  away  at  the  mist-crowned  hills. 
"  I  fear  it's  the  last  of  our  '  gray  rides  '  for  some 
time,  Cousin  Jean.  I'm  sailing  for  Egypt  in 
the  morning." 

"  Sailing  —  in  the  morning?    Larry!  " 

"  En  route  to  Syria.  Bob  found  a  canceled 
passage  for  me  yesterday.  It  is  a  bit  abrupt 
but  —  "he  reddened. 

"But  —  but  why  Syria?"  stammered  Jean. 
"  It's  so  very  warm  for  an  Oriental  trip." 

"  I'm  easily  acclimated.  Besides,  the  whim 
is  strong.  There's  a  lonely  desert  monastery 
over  there  in  which  Grant  and  Quin  and  I  spent 
a  night  when  we  were  nomading  about  and  I've 
a  mind  to  visit  it  again.  I  can't  pretend  to 
describe  the  wonderful  peace  and  quiet  of  it. 
They  impressed  me  then  and  they're  luring  now. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  solemn  midnight  bell 
that  called  the  monks  to  prayer.  Then  I  may 
take  a  caravan  trip  through  Palestine  into 
Arabia  and  the  desert,  and,  a  little  later,  into 
India  and  Thibet." 


Chapter  Eleven  137 

"But,  Larry,"  faltered  Jean,  "it  will  be 
months  and  months  —  " 

'  Yes,"  nodded  Larry,  "  it  will,  of  course." 
And  struck  by  the  note  of  quick  decision  in  his 
voice,  Jean  fell  to  deploring  afresh  the  outcome 
of  her  cousin's  wooing. 

"  Lloyd  can  manage  well  enough  without  me," 
Larry  was  saying.  "  Besides,  Ralph  Taylor's 
coming  in  with  us  for  a  start.  He's  studied  in 
the  Beaux  Arts  himself  and  does  corking  work." 

"  And  dad  knows  you're  going?  " 

"  No,  he  doesn't!  I've  been  thinking  perhaps 
you'll  tell  him  for  me." 

"  It  will  not  be  easy,"  said  Jean. 

Larry  glanced  thoughtfully  at  his  cousin's 
profile. 

"  Bob  had  a  great  notion  he'd  like  to  come 
along  with  me  if  it  were  possible.  He  seems 
a  bit  out  of  sorts." 

"  Isn't  his  philosophy  working? " 

Larry  frowned. 

"  Bob  has  a  very  fine  sort  of  philosophy,"  he 
urged,  "  but  it  isn't  arrow-proof.  Did  you  ever 
stop  to  think,  Jean,  that  there  are  two  brands 
of  philosophy?  One  is  a  superficial  sort  which, 
in  the  truest  sense,  isn't  philosophy  at  all.  It 
springs  from  temperament  entirely  and,  I  fancy, 
is  merely  the  ingrained  stolidity  of  the  emotional 


138  The  Lovable  Meddler 

laggard.  The  other,  Bob's  kind,  is  a  bigger 
kind.  It  spells  the  finest  sort  of  will  power 
and  intellectual  self-control.  Bob  has  a  power- 
ful will  and  he's  disciplined  himself  so  thoroughly 
that  he's  lost  sight  of  his  own  depths.  There 
are  nevertheless  tremendous  forces  hidden  away 
beneath  his  laziness  and  good  humor." 

Jean  stared  straight  ahead. 

"  It  is  a  new  viewpoint,"  she  admitted. 

"  There  have  been  times,"  said  Larry,  "  when 
I  would  have  given  much  for  Bob's  large  and 
wholesome  philosophy  of  existence." 

Flame-bright  through  the  trees  glinted  the 
gold  of  the  sunrise,  and  with  one  accord  the  two 
wheeled  their  horses  to  the  east,  watching  the 
play  of  light  upon  the  water.  And  Larry,  not- 
ing the  clear  red  in  Jean's  cheeks,  attributed  it 
to  the  talk  of  Bob  and  felt  a  secret  sense  of 
satisfaction.  He  was  presently  disillusioned. 

Jean  suddenly  wheeled  her  horse  and  her 
darkly  golden  eyes  were  very  tearful. 

"  Whenever  I  face  the  east  again  at  sunrise," 
she  said,  her  voice  breaking,  "I  —  I  shall  think 
of  you  away  off  there  alone,  fighting."  She 
laid  an  impulsive  hand  upon  his  arm.  "  Oh, 
Larry,  I  am  so  sorry!  " 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Larry  whimsically;  "  I  am 
myself." 


Chapter  12 
In  which  the  doctor  decides  to  keep  on  brewing 

nnHERE  was  a  general  feeling  in  the  Music 
•*•  Box  that  Larry  would  like  best  to  go  quietly 
off  in  the  morning  with  Bob,  without  the  usual 
fanfare  of  adieus  upon  the  pier.  To  this  end 
therefore  word  was  passed  along  to  Bob,  and 
to  his  intense  relief  Larry  found  his  going  made 
easier  by  the  thoughtfulness  of  his  friends.  To 
be  sure,  the  Doctor,  fretful  and  melancholy  after 
a  desperate  midnight  attempt  to  bully  Larry 
into  altering  his  plans,  bade  fair  to  be  intractable 
at  the  end,  evincing  telephonic  symptoms  of  a 
desire  to  quarrel  with  Bob  about  his  solitary 
privilege  of  seeing  Larry  off,  but  in  the  end  it 
was  Bob  alone  who  watched  the  steamer  sail, 
waving  to  the  last  a  cheerful  arm  which  bravely 
belied  his  mood.  And  later,  returning  on  the 
noonday  train,  he  stopped  in  at  the  Hame  o' 
Roses  on  his  way  to  lunch. 

'  Why,  hang  it  all,  Jean,"  he  finished,  "  when 
Larry  waved  his  arm  to  me  from  the  deck  with 
the  same  old  smile  around  his  mouth,  I'd  half 
a  notion  to  swim  out  after  him!  It's  a  con- 

139 


140          The  Lovable  Meddler 

founded  shame  —  that's  what  it  is  —  and  I'm 
going  to  tell  Rose  so  myself."  He  swung  on 
down  the  veranda  steps  and  turned.  "  And  he's 
suffering  all  the  more  of  course  because  he  isn't 
a  —  philosopher! " 

Now  it  was  that  the  Doctor  took  an  intense 
dislike  to  his  midnight  hour  in  the  office.  The 
flavor  of  his  coffee  was  nothing  like  so  "  guid  " 
he  fretted;  doubtless  the  thievin'  man  who  sold 
it  had  just  learned  the  wicked  trick  of  adul- 
teratin'.  Even  his  atrocious  cigars  grew  some- 
how worse  than  usual.  Moreover,  he  took  to 
bullying  and  reviling  his  patients  for  trivial  mis- 
demeanors, and  bickered  crossly  with  his  crib- 
bage  cronies.  Mrs.  Glenmuir  felt  called  upon 
to  protest. 

"  I  just  canna  help  it,  Agnes,"  snapped  the 
Doctor,  "and  I  winna  try!     I  miss  the  lad  so 
much  that  I  canna  help  feelin'  fair  sick  all  over 
about  it.    What  with  that  and  thoughts  of  my 
peck  o'  maut,  and  Bennie  raggin'  me  so  persist- 
ent about  my  troosers,  I  could  almost  do  murder ; 
and  if  I  started  once,"  he  nodded  darkly,  "  I 
know  well  enough  whom  I  would  murder  first. 
ff  O,  how  can  I  be  biythe  and  glad, 
Or  how  can  I  gang  brisk  and  braw, 
When  the  bonny  lad  that  I  lo'e  best 
Is  o'er  the  hills  and  far  awa! 


Chapter  Twelve  141 

"  Agnes,  'tis  a  matter  of  verra  great  regret 
with  me,  but  I  feel  it  comin'  over  me  again 
most  uncommon  strong  that  I  must  meddle  a 
bit  and  undo  some  of  my  own  tanglin'.  A  peck 
o'  maut  after  all  is  a  verra  queer  thing.  If  ye 
once  begin  brewin'  ye  must  keep  on  or  ye  will 
have  no  peace  of  mind." 

"  Oh,  Roderick,"  begged  Mrs.  Glenmuir  fear- 
fully, "  don't.  You  are  so  indiscreet  - 

"Indiscreet!"  exclaimed  the  Doctor  indig- 
nantly. "  Guid  faith,  Agnes,  'tis  a  word  I 
would  not  have  thought  of  applyin'  to  myself. 
Just  how  would  ye  make  such  a  strong  case  out 
against  me  ? " 

'  Well,  you've  said  at  times  yourself  that 
your  tongue  is  a  trifle  —  intractable.  For 
instance,  I  fancied  it  was  a  bit  indiscreet  to  tell 
Norman  and  Grant  and  Bob  all  about  Lloyd's 
visit  here  the  night  of  the  storm  and  the  reason 
for  it.  You  remember  Bob's  indignant  call 
upon  Rose  was  one  result  of  your  —  talking." 

"  Aweel,  Agnes,"  evaded  the  Doctor,  "  I 
would  not  just  criticize  Bobbie  for  that.  I  have 
heard  tell  of  such  performances  before.  Any- 
way, lass,  what  with  all  the  lads  knowin'  so  much 
about  Larry's  year  of  silence  and  his  courtin'  the 
dear  lass  so  artistically  with  firelight  and  music, 
and  all  of  'em  so  mortal  interested,  I  just  had 


142  The  Lovable  Meddler 

to  notify  'em  when  the  poor  lad's  soap-bubble 
of  romance  burst  so  verra  unexpected.  Surely 
even  yourself  canna  help  seein'  the  fairness  of 
that." 

'*  Who,  I  wonder,  revealed  all  the  picturesque 
details  which  so  enlivened  their  interest?  " 

"  Aweel,  Agnes,  lass,"  parried  the  Doctor 
skillfully,  "  I  would  not  care  to  cast  suspicion 
upon  anyone,  but  there's  no  doubt  that  whoever 
'twas  that  did  the  gabbin',  'twas  a  verra 
imprudent  proceedin'." 

But  he  discreetly  dropped  the  subject  of 
further  brewing,  sensing  opposition. 

"  Roderick  Glenmuir,"  he  reminded  himself 
later  over  his  coffee,  "  ye  canna  seem  to  mind 
your  own  business,  can  ye?  I  have  scant  respect 
for  your  meddlesome  tricks.  Away  with  your 
schemin',  sir!  'Tis  verra  unbecomin'  to  a 
sawbones." 

But  the  temptation  returned  tenfold,  and  the 
Doctor  presently  jotted  down  some  notes  and 
studied  them  with  interest. 

"  I  canna  help  rrtyself,"  he  decided.  'Tis 
such  a  guid  schemie  I  canna  let  it  pass  without 
a  try." 

And  long  after  he  was  in  bed,  wide-awake  and 
unusually  restless,  a  chuckle  or  two  of  satis- 
faction eluded  control. 


Chapter  Twelve  143 

"  Agnes,"  he  apologized,  "  dinna  ye  bother 
your  pretty  head  aboot  me,  lass.  I  winna  giggle 
again.  'Tis  but  a  schemie." 

And  Mrs.  Glenmuir  dozed  again,  mercifully 
unaware  of  the  definite  trend  of  the  schemie. 


Chapter  13 

In  which  the  doctor  secretly  plays  the  role  of  a 

dangerous  character  and  enlists  the  aid 

of  a  henchman 

NO  doubt  about  it,  Peggy,  'tis  a  verra 
war-r-m  day,"  conceded  the  Doctor  one 
sunset  as  the  mare  halted  drowsily  in  a  shady 
street.  "  But  to-day  I  would  consider  it  a  verra 
great  favor  indeed  if  ye  would  just  skip  your 
wee  nappie  now  and  take  it  later  at  hame. 
There  are  matters  of  great  importance  afoot." 
The  Doctor  sniffed  importantly.  "  Matters  of 
great  importance,  and  so  verra  private  to  boot 
that  if  Jeannie  and  the  Leddy  Glenmuir  sus- 
pected, I  would  doubtless  be  hanged  at  sunset 
among  my  own  roses  as  a  most  fearful  example 
to  all  other  meddlers.  Tactful  we  must  be, 
Peggy,  verra  tactful,  just  layin'  the  threads  of 
the  big  schemie  to-day  with  a  word  here  and 
another  word  there." 

He  shook  the  reins,  and  Peggy  moved  on 
sleepily  up  the  street.  Peggy's  locomotion  was 
such  that  it  never  interfered  with  ambidextrous 
activity.  Now  the  Doctor  wrapped  the  reins 

144 


Chapter  Thirteen  145 

around  the  back  of  the  buggy  seat  and  fell  to 
studying  a  certain  "  paper  of  maneuvers." 

"  Guid  faith!"  he  chuckled,  "I  am  experi- 
encin'  all  the  delightful  thrills  of  a  man  who's 
carryin'  incriminatin'  papers !  Shake  a  leg  there, 
Peggy,  lass,  shake  a  leg!  I  have  now  become 
a  most  dangerous  character  and  I  canna  have 
my  steed  so  calm  and  drowsy." 

Turning  into  the  busier  thoroughfares  of  the 
city  Doctor  Roderick  presently  drew  rein  before 
an  apartment  house  and  proceeded  by  elevator 
to  the  topmost  floor. 

Somewhere  in  the  Cave,  Jerry's  oboe  was 
wailing  dismally  as  the  Doctor  made  his  way 
to  the  room  where  Norman  pursued  his  calling 
as  a  dentist. 

"  Now,"  thought  he,  "  now  for  enlistin'  my 
henchman  in  the  schemie! 

"  Norman,"  accused  his  visitor  as  the  young 
dentist  emerged  from  an  easy  chair  with  a 
hearty  greeting,  "  ye're  a  nice  lad,  but  ye're 
entirely  too  lazy  and  luxurious  and  fat.  Ye 
dinna  have  to  work  and  ye  dinna  do  it  —  to 
any  harmful  extent." 

"  Great  Guns ! "  exclaimed  Norman,  ag- 
grieved. "I  —  work  like  a  squirrel." 

"  Like  a  squirrel  —  in  winter,"  nodded  the 
Doctor,  "  and  a  snowplow  in  summer! " 


146          The  Lovable  Meddler 

With  a  twinkle  he  appraised  Norman's  clean- 
shaven face,  clear-red  of  cheek  and  round  of 
contour  like  his  eyes. 

"  Norman,  lad,  in  picturin'  ye  I  would  sketch 
ye  all  in  circles,  with  a  guid  handful  of  dimples 
to  sprinkle  about,  and  I  would  by  no  chance 
omit  to  have  the  socks  and  tie  of  the  same  shade 
of  silk.  Now,  if  ye  dinna  mind  my  askin',  lad- 
die, what  would  ye  be  doin'  over  there?  " 

Norman  confessed  that  he  was  making  collar 
buttons  out  of  dental  gold. 

"God  bless  my  soul!"  The  doctor  stared. 
"  Would  ye  just  listen  to  the  daffy  lad!  Makin' 
collar  buttons  out  of  embryo  teeth!  Can  ye 
beat  such  a  niffy-nafFy  dentist  as  that!  What 
with  his  collar-buttonin'  fancywork,  I  dinna 
wonder  the  lad's  so  busy  he  just  canna  work. 
Whist,  Norm,  are  ye  still  so  mortal  keen  on 
readin'  old  time  romances?  " 

For  answer  Norman  produced  from  an  ingen- 
ious drawer  with  an  impressive  but  mendacious 
label,  a  book  bearing  the  title,  "Dolores,  Daugh- 
ter of  Olden  Spain." 

"  A  peach!  "  he  recommended. 

"  Bless  your  romance-lovin'  heart !  "  beamed 
the  Doctor.  "  I  just  knew  ye  would  not  dis- 
appoint me,  and  me  with  such  a  great  schemie, 
such  a  great  and  fascinatin'  schemie,  sir,  as  ye 


Chapter  Thirteen  147 

winna  find  in  any  book.  But  mind  ye,  laddie, 
dinna  ye  ever  give  me  away.  I  would  be  in  a 
pickle!  There's  many  and  many  a  one  in 
Auburnia,  I'm  thinkin',  would  consign  me  to 
the  Brimstone  Hornie  himself  if  ye  did!  " 

And  nodding  darkly,  the  "  dangerous  char- 
acter "  produced  an  incriminating  paper  of 
notes  and  beckoned  Norman  to  his  side.  Fol- 
lowed an  impressive  exposition  of  the  schemie, 
to  which  Norman  listened  with  twinkling  eyes. 
Mightily  pleased  at  his  henchman's  enthusiasm, 
the  Doctor  let  his  tongue  wag  on,  resourceful 
and  convincing,  and  eventually  he  stayed  to  din- 
ner that  the  pair  might  start  the  ball  a-rolling. 

It  was  a  picturesque  place  —  the  Cave  — 
decided  the  Doctor  at  dinner,  staring  in  keen 
amusement  at  the  tinted  walls  frescoed  by  the 
brush  of  Jerry.  Here  one  might  see  caricatures 
of  Lloyd  and  Larry  laboriously  making  blue- 
prints at  the  office;  of  Quin  Courtney  writing 
the  enthusiastic  letter  that  had  brought  his  three 
favorite  classmates  to  Auburnia,  the  letter  set- 
ting fire  to  the  postman's  coat-tails;  of  Grant 
Dallinger  ("  Real  Estate  and  Insurance  "  flam- 
ingly  lettered  on  his  hat)  exchanging  a  city  lot 
for  an  automobile,  as  he  had,  and  Grant  exchang- 
ing a  city  lot  for  a  pair  of  shoes,  as  he  had  not 
—  and  near  him  a  map  of  Auburnia  which  fully 


148  The  Lovable  Meddler 

accounted    for    all    the    rest    of    his    apparel. 

There  was  Bob  writing  a  Gunnigan  editorial 
with  a  stick  of  brimstone;  Norman  absorbed  in 
romance-reading,  absently  boring  away  a  large 
portion  of  his  patient's  jaw;  and  Roger,  fat, 
dark  and  dirty,  clarinetting  in  a  "  mud-gutter  " 
band  with  his  pockets  full  of  black  cigars.  And 
in  the  most  unexpected  places  appeared  Jerry 
himself  in  the  various  stages  of  gloom  to  which 
he  was  addicted,  all  his  lines  running  character- 
istically to  the  vertical. 

Nor  had  the  domestic  force  escaped.  There 
were  charcoal  sketches  of  Uncle  Shad  and  P. 
D.  Q.,  the  partnership  cat,  and  sketches  of 
O'Hagan  tightly  wedged  in  an  ancient  Prince 
Albert  and  a  battered  silk  hat;  and,  grand  mas- 
terpiece of  all,  the  janitor!  For,  jauntily  parad- 
ing about  the  four  walls  in  grotesque  procession 
appeared  what  Jerry  had  aptly  termed  a  jani- 
torial frieze  depicting  the  many  phases  of  the 
janitor's  activity.  It  was  peculiarly  significant 
that  every  fourth  figure  or  so  appeared  to  be 
hammering  madly  at  a  door  whose  cracks  gave 
egress  to  whole  flocks  of  winged  notes,  and  that 
in  the  end,  shorn  of  conventional  attire,  the 
janitor  proved  to  be  Mephistopheles  in  disguise 
deputized  from  the  Inferno  to  smother  budding 
genius. 


Chapter  Thirteen  149 

It  was  a  wonderful  evening  —  an  evening  in 
which  Jerry  at  the  Doctor's  request  sketched 
Norman  on  the  wall,  in  circles  and  dimples,  fill- 
ing with  a  gold  collar  button  an  enormous  cavity 
in  the  jaw  of  a  prize-fighter.  And  in  a  final 
burst  of  inspiration  the  artist  added  a  travesty 
of  the  Doctor  himself  clad  in  the  robes  of  a 
Roman  charioteer  madly  urging  the  tranquil 
Peggy  to  shake  a  much-needed  leg.  And 
through  it  all  the  Doctor  and  his  henchman 
slyly  fertilized  the  ground  for  the  Doctor's 
schemie ! 


Chapter  14 

In  which  Mrs.  Glenmuir  interviews  the  danger- 
ous character  and  learns  something  about 
the  schemes  of  mice  and  men 

WHATEVER  the  progress  of  the  schemie 
in  the  days  that  followed,  days  of  sus- 
picious intimacy  and  midnight  chats  with  Nor- 
man, certainly  both  the  Doctor  and  his  henchman 
seemed  beset  with  pernicious  activity,  roving 
about  upon  obscure  errands,  greeting  each  other 
with  mysterious  chuckles  and  wearing  such  a 
challenging  air  of  inscrutability  that  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir  grew  suspicious. 

"  Roderick,"  she  began  one  night,  seating  her- 
self beside  the  Doctor's  desk,  "  just  what  sort 
of  mischief  are  you  and  Norman  planning 
anyway? " 

"Mischief,  Agnes!"  The  Doctor  raised 
aggrieved  eyes  from  his  Medical  Journal. 
"  Guid  faith,  lass,  ye're  so  verra  unexpected  at 
times  ye  just  fair  startle  a  body." 

"  Then  I  found  this  in  the  wastebasket  —  " 

The  Doctor  inspected  it  with  a  paralyzing 

150 


Chapter  Fourteen  151 

sense  of  guilt.  It  was  a  straggling  copy  of 
the  paper  of  maneuvers.  His  surrender  was 
unexpected. 

"  Whist,  Agnes,  I  dinna  wish  to  be  so  pestered 
about  my  daffy  matchmakin'.  Ye  just  canna 
conceive,  dear  lass,  what  a  rare  peck  of  trouble 
I've  been  gettin'  myself  into." 

Mrs.  Glenmuir  met  this  frank  bid  for  sym- 
pathy with  a  non-committal  "  Hum." 

"  More  things  could  not  have  gone  wrong, 
Agnes,  if  I  had  sat  myself  down  sudden  in  a 
hive  of  bees." 

"  The  customary  fate,"  said  Mrs.  Glenmuir, 
"  of  the  meddler." 

"  Dinna  I  know  well  enough  that  I'm  meddle- 
some? "  demanded  the  Doctor.  "  I  canna  help 
it.  Now  that  ye  have  run  me  down  so  artful, 
Agnes,  would  ye  be  so  guid  as  to  give  your  ear 
to  my  troubles?  " 

Mrs.  Glenmuir  laughed  and  the  Doctor, 
relieved,  drew  the  paper  of  maneuvers  toward 
him  with  a  frown. 

*  Ye  mind,  Agnes,  how  Kipling's  fine  old 
lama  says  to  Kim, '  Thou  hast  loosed  an  act  upon 
the  world  and  as  a  stone  thrown  into  a  pool, 
so  spread  the  consequences  thou  canst  not  tell 
how  far.'  'Tis  just  so  with  me  now!  I'm  in  a 
most  fearful  mess.  Draw  your  chair  closer, 


152          The  Lovable  Meddler 

lass.  I  would  have  ye  go  over  this  troublesome 
document  with  me  and  give  me  a  bit  of  guid 
advice." 

Mrs.  Glenmuir  obeyed  with  foreboding. 

'  Ye  see,"  confided  the  schemer,  "  'tis  just  so," 
indicating  a  list  of  names.  "  Just  so  I  planned 
with  Norman's  aid  to  pair  off  the  lads  of  the 
Music  Box  and  the  Cave  and  the  Weston  lasses 
but,  Oh,  Agnes,  ye  canna  conceive  how  niffy- 
naffy  all  of  them  have  taken  to  actin',  down  to 
Norman  himself  I" 

"But,  Roderick,"  protested  Mrs.  Glenmuir, 
te  why  pair  them  off  at  all?  " 

1  'Twas  such  a  guid  schemie,  such  a  verra 
guid  schemie,  I  just  could  not  resist.  Besides, 
Agnes,  it  came  to  me  that  the  way  to  simplify 
poor  Larry's  problem  was  by  the  process  of 
elimination.  .  .  .  Canna  ye  see  through  my 
schemie  yet? " 

"You  have  developed  surprising  subtleties!" 

"  Hum.  Aweel,  'tis  this  way,  Agnes.  Thinks 
I  to  myself:  '  If  all  the  lasses  are  married,  we 
have  a  much  less  complicated  situation  to  pester 
us.  Therefore  I  would  have  'em  married  off 
immediate ! '  Dinna  stare  so,  Agnes ;  there  are 
ways  and  ways!  Then  if  I  canna  do  anything 
else  to  free  poor  Leddy  Rose,  I  myself  will 
get  that  gowk  of  a  Rodney  a  job  if  'tis  nothing 


Chapter  Fourteen  153 

more  than  paintin'  houses  about  town.  Though 
to  be  sure,"  he  added  with  a  sniff,  "  that  would 
be  a  dangerous  experiment!  Why,  Agnes,  if 
a  body  ordered  a  white  house  and  Rodney's  sub- 
conscious mind  got  to  workin'  overnight  account 
of  old  Mollie  kickin'  the  barn  down  or  some 
such  disturbin'  rumpus,  the  poor  householder 
would  like  as  not  find  himself  saddled  with  a 
red  and  purple  house  instead.  Still,  'tis  an 
excellent  business  for  breakin'  a  man's  neck  and 
that  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at!  With  all  the  lasses 
married,  therefore,  and  maybe  helpin'  their 
parents  along  a  bit,  and  King  Rodney  workin' 
at  last  like  a  God-fearin'  man,  couldn't  Letty 
keep  house  herself  and  give  up  brokerin'?  " 
"  Perhaps.  But,  Oh,  Roderick  —  " 
"  Dinna  mind  me,  Agnes.  I'm  a  meddlesome 
old  matchmaker  in  my  heart  but  I  dinna  doubt 
it's  because  I  married  so  verra  well  myself." 
And  fearing  to  spoil  this  bit  of  diplomacy,  the 
Doctor  wisely  passed  on  to  the  paper  of 
maneuvers. 

"  Norman  and  I  have  done  an  astonishin' 
amount  of  work  to  bring  the  lads  and  lasses 
together  just  as  I  have  it  all  written  there  — 
Norm  said  'twould  be  mortal  easy  with  the 
proper  direction,  the  lads  and  lasses  already  bein' 
friends  —  but  ye  canna  conceive  how  verra  dif- 


154  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ferent  it  has  all  come  about."  The  Doctor 
scanned  his  list  with  a  groan  of  despair.  "  Why, 
Agnes,  would  ye  believe  it,  it  has  just  kept  me 
awake  of  nights  plannin'  how  to  keep  all  those 
daffy  lads  from  fallin'  head  over  kerturby  in 
love  with  June  Weston  because  she  looked  the 
most  like  Leddy  Rose !  .  .  .  'Tis  not  funny, 
Agnes,"  reproached  the  Doctor,  "  with  poor 
gloomy  Jerry  a-cherishin'  a  secret  passion  for 
the  pretty  lass  ever  since  he  was  there  so  much 
paintin'  Rose's  picture." 

"How  did  you  manage?"  asked  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir,  avoiding  the  Doctor's  glint  of  suspicion. 

"  Summoned  the  lot  of  them  to  the  office  one 
night  and  told  'em  flat  about  Jerry  and  how  the 
poor  lad  had  up  and  confided  to  me  that  he 
lacked  the  courage  to  press  his  suit.  They're 
as  loyal  as  my  own  Highlanders  and  their  fancy 
was  not  so  verra  serious.  They  spoke  some  of 
thrashin'  poor  Jerry  for  keepin*  his  fancy  a 
secret ! " 

"Roger  and  Marcia!"  read  Mrs.  Glenmuir. 
"  You  managed  that?  " 

"Oh,  my,  my,  no,  Agnes!"  sniffed  the  Doc- 
tor. "  After  Norm  and  myself  near  ran  Roger's 
fat  legs  off  with  errands  to  Marcia's  office,  too! 
The  pair  are  excellent  friends  and  nothin'  more." 
And  the  Doctor  spoke  bitterly  of  many  and 


Chapter  Fourteen  155 

many  another  romantic  inspiration  that  had 
borne  platonic  fruit.  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  control 
fled  at  last  in  a  wave  of  laughter. 

"  'Tis  vastly  humorous,  no  doubt,"  agreed 
the  Doctor  dryly.  "  I  would  have  ye  wait, 
however,  until  ye  have  heard  all  of  my  troubles. 
Midway  then  of  this  fearful  jumble  it  develops 
that  Lloyd  Ridgely  is  a  bit  of  a  woman-hater 
though  not  to  any  alarmin'  extent.  Anyway 
he  up  and  confides  to  Norman  that  he  for  one 
has  never  seen  the  lass  that  could  muddle  his 
head.  And,  Agnes,  would  ye  believe  it,  he's 
become  most  as  cagy  as  a  trout." 

The  Doctor  sighed. 

"  But  of  all  of  them,  my  own  assistant,  Nor- 
man, has  pestered  me  most.  The  lad's  conduct 
has  just  been  scandalous  —  fair  scandalous! 
Doubtless,  Agnes,  ye  guessed  that  I  enlisted  his 
aid  because  he  was  such  a  wonderful  lover  of 
romance.  Hum!  I  did  not  suspect  that  that 
verra  quality  of  his  would  become  a  perfect 
curse.  Why,  Agnes,  he  was  all  for  arrangin' 
hairbreadth  rescues  and  kidnappin's  and  hirin' 
robbers  to  waylay  the  lasses  just  when  the  lads 
were  by  to  chase  them  off  and  all  such  daffy 
contrivances.  I  just  could  not  leave  him  out  of 
my  sight.  If  he  disappeared  of  a  sudden,  I 
would  have  to  go  scallawaggin'  about  town 


15G  The  Lovable  Meddler 

straightway  after  him,  fearin'  he  would  set  fire 
to  the  Weston  home  so  the  lads  could  put  it 
out  —  or  something  worse.  Any  commotion 
in  the  street  that  drew  a  crowd  fussed  me  right 
away  for  I  could  not  help  thinkin'  that  Norman 
was  doubtless  mixed  up  in  it  in  the  further 
pursuit  of  the  schemie.  Bless  ye,  he  has  been 
a  verra  tough  nerve  strain!  And  just  a  while 
back  to-night,"  the  Doctor's  groan  was  pregnant 
with  disaster,  "  while  I  was  sittin'  here  verra 
calm  and  peaceful,  in  comes  Norm,  moonin' 
about  with  a  strange,  guilty  look  in  his  eyes, 
and  tells  me  he's  in  love !  " 

"  With? " 

"  Oh,  my,  my,  my,  Agnes ! "  exploded  the 
harassed  matchmaker,  "with  June,  of  course! 
Can  ye  beat  it?  Straightway  I  up  and  remind 
Norm  once  more  of  Jerry's  fancy  for  her  and 
then  after  all  our  hobnobbin'  and  schemin'  and 
scallawaggin'  about  together,  if  the  two  of  us 
didn't  fall  to  bickerin'  and  quarrelin'  like  two 
fretsome  magpies.  Norm  he  just  wouldn't  listen 
to  reason  about  Jerry  and  June  and  spoke  some 
of  fightin'  a  duel  first  with  Jerry  and  then  with 
me."  The  Doctor  mopped  his  forehead.  "  The 
lad  rambled  on  like  a  lunatic,  talkin'  large  of 
buyin'  an  aeroplane  and  kidnappin'  June  with- 
out her  consent  and  all  such  big  talk  as  that. 


Chapter  Fourteen  157 

*  Norm,'  I  pointed  out  desperately,  '  I  just  will 
not  have  ye  fallin'  in  love  with  a  Weston. 
There's  no  eligible  Weston  left  in  the  schemie 
but  t'other  twin  Lucia  whom  I  had  intended 
for  Lloyd,  and  such  a  strenuous,  athletic  lass 
as  she  is,  who  thinks  nothin'  at  all  of  walkin' 
ten  or  fifteen  miles  at  a  stretch  and  exercisin' 
with  a  punchin'  bag  as  big  as  herself,  would 
not  look  at  so  lazy  and  luxurious  a  lad  as 
yourself.' 

"  And  with  that,  Agnes,"  went  on  the 
scandalized  Doctor,  "  Norm  bolts  wildly  out  of 
his  chair,  claps  his  hat  upon  his  head  like  a 
madman  and  gallops  out  of  the  house,  scoldin' 
away  that  just  to  spite  me  he  will  make  Lucia 
Weston  fall  in  love  with  him  whether  or  no 
he  is  so  fat." 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head  in  melancholy 
reflection. 

"  Aweel,"  he  added,  "  '  the  best  laid  schemes 
o'  mice  and  men  gang  aft  agley ! '  What  would 
be  your  excellent  advice,  Agnes,  lass,  to  a  man 
who  has  got  himself  all  mixed  up  in  such  a 
fearful  predicament?" 

Mrs.  Glenmuir  counseled  an  unconditional 
abandonment  of  the  schemie  to  the  hand  of  Fate. 
This  the  Doctor  frowningly  considered  with  at 
last  a  more  or  less  reluctant  acquiescence,  con- 


158  The  Lovable  Meddler 

tenting  himself  with  a  mournful  quotation  from 
his  favorite  Burns: 

"  But  och,  I  backward  cast  my  e'e 

On  prospects  drear! 
An'  forward,  tho'  I  canna  see, 
I  guess  and  fear! " 


Chapter  15 
Chiefly  equine 

THE  drowsy  gold  of  a  late  August  afternoon 
may  have  its  spots  of  turbulence  like  any- 
thing else  and  one  of  these,  Bob  Huntley  decided 
as  he  turned  up  the  Glenmuir  driveway  swing- 
ing his  tennis  racquet,  was  undoubtedly  the  old 
Glenmuir  barn. 

From  its  vine-showered  doorway  floated  the 
sound  of  voices  and  an  alarmed  whinny  and 
through  it  came  Doctor  Roderick  himself 
muttering  something  about  a  blunderbuss.  He 
waved  a  casual  arm  to  Bob,  hurried  across  the 
lawn  and  disappeared  within  the  house  with  a 
bang  of  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Nothing  serious,  Bob,"  called  Jean  from 
the  barn  doorway.  "  He's  merely  going  to 
shoot  Ginger  again  with  that  blunderbuss 
cripple  of  ours  in  the  attic.  It's  an  heirloom." 

"  And  what,"  asked  Bob,  smiling,  "  is 
Ginger's  offense  this  time?  " 

Jean  wrinkled  her  nose  in  a  boyish  grin. 

'  Well,"  she  acknowledged  fairly,  "  Ginger  is 

159 


160  The  Lovable  Meddler 

somewhat  temperamental  and  I'm  afraid 
Peggy's  tranquility  gets  on  his  nerves.  He  has 
a  bad  habit  of  biting  her  unexpectedly  in  the 
middle  of  a  nap  and  to-day  it  startled  her  so 
she  lost  her  balance  and  tumbled  over.  Unfor- 
tunately the  Medical  Parent  was  present  —  he 
usually  is  —  and  Ginger  immediately  learned 
his  pedigree  and  his  intimate  relation  to  the 
Glenmuir  blunderbuss  in  involved  Scotch  for 
the  third  time  this  week." 

She  led  the  way  back  into  the  barn  where 
the  aggrieved  Peggy  was  munching  hay,  and 
Ginger,  black  and  fretful,  looked  on,  occasion- 
ally showing  the  whites  of  a  pair  of  wicked  eyes. 

"  He's  a  devil,  Jean !  "  said  Bob  as  the  girl 
fearlessly  entered  the  stall  and  began  to  saddle 
him.  "Going  out?" 

"  No."  Jean  wheeled  the  prancing  animal 
about  and  shrugged  at  his  antics.  "I'm  lending 
him  to  Carol  Weston.  No,  don't  come  into  the 
stall,  Bob,  please!  I  can  manage  him  so  much 
better  alone." 

Under  the  guidance  of  Jean's  strong,  white 
hands,  Ginger  quieted  into  the  outward 
semblance  of  a  lamb.  The  rambling,  hay-sweet 
barn,  the  girl's  white  gown  and  the  black  of 
Ginger's  flank,  made  a  charming  picture,  its 
high  lights  the  flecked  gold  of  the  August  sun- 


Chapter  Fifteen  161 

light  showering  through  the  door,  and  the  girl's 
bright  hair.  The  weatherbeaten  gray  of  the 
barn  was  a  twilight  note  of  contrast. 

There  was  something  in  Jean's  independence, 
however,  something  in  the  splendid  poise  of  her 
mind  and  body,  that  always  made  Bob  feel 
very  humble  and  unimportant  and  not  at  all  a 
necessary  factor  in  her  future.  So  to-day  he 
watched  the  girl's  mastery  of  her  horse  with  a 
shadow  in  his  eyes. 

"  Jeannie  —  "he  began. 

"  Bob! "  squealed  the  girl,  and  the  warning 
was  fraught  with  reminiscence. 

"  Come  play  tennis  with  me,"  he  invited  rather 
guiltily.  "  I'm  to  meet  Quin  at  the  tennis  club." 

"  Sorry,  Bob,  but  I  must  wait  for  Carol." 

"  Jeannie,"  came  the  Doctor's  voice  from  a 
near-by  window  as  the  pair  appeared  in  the 
barn  doorway,  "  your  mother  has  hidden  my 
blunderbuss.  I  winna  be  out  to  shoot  that 
gowk  of  a  Ginger  until  I  have  found  it." 

Bob  trudged  on  down  the  driveway,  smiling. 
At  the  street  he  turned  and  waved  and  Jean 
turned  back  to  Ginger's  stall,  vaguely  annoyed 
with  herself  and  her  theories  and  wondering  why. 
Long  before  she  had  solved  the  enigma,  Carol 
Weston  had  arrived  to  try  her  skill  in  managing 
Ginger. 


162  The  Lovable  Meddler 

'  You're  sure  you  don't  mind  lending  him, 
Jean?  "  asked  Carol. 

"Of  course  not,  you  silly  youngster!" 
laughed  generous  Jean,  but  Ginger  fell  to  caper- 
ing as  she  led  him  out  and  a  little  anxiously 
she  added:  "  Quite  sure  you  can  manage  him, 
Carol? " 

"Of  course!  Why,  I've  been  using  a  horse 
at  the  Riding  Academy  all  winter  that  the 
other  girls  were  afraid  of."  Vaulting  lightly 
into  the  saddle  Carol  was  off,  as  rare  a  foil 
for  Ginger's  black  grace  with  her  dark,  vivid 
coloring  as  an  artist  might  find. 

Northward  they  flew  beyond  the  city  under 
an  archway  of  trees  with  the  silver  glimmer  of 
the  river  to  the  right,  on  and  on  with  rolling 
meadows  in  a  blaze  of  sunlight  to  the  left  and 
the  checkered  shadows  of  the  road  ahead.  Carol 
tugged  at  the  rein.  Ginger's  sole  response  was 
a  quiver  of  nerve  and  sinew  and  a  haughty  toss 
of  his  handsome  head.  Startled,  Carol  sought 
violently  to  jerk  him  to  a  standstill  but  Ginger, 
still  fretful  from  his  altercation  with  Peggy 
and  insolently  conscious  of  an  unfamiliar  hand 
upon  his  bridle,  flung  back  his  head  resent- 
fully and  went  flying  on,  venting  his  ill-temper 
upon  a  strange  and  reckless  rider  by  running 
away! 


Chapter  Fifteen  163 

Almost  in  the  first  minute  of  her  fright,  Carol 
heard  the  thud  of  other  hoofs  behind  her,  and 
the  voice  of  another  horseman  rang  with 
authority  through  the  din. 

"  Sit  tight!  "  it  warned  and  panting  the  girl 
obeyed,  flinging  her  arms  in  a  panic  about  the 
horse's  neck.  A  black  shadow  swept  in  a  blur 
beside  her,  a  masculine  hand  grasped  Ginger's 
bridle  and  jerked  him  violently  to  a  standstill 
and,  white  and  trembling,  Carol  faced  her 
deliverer. 

"Mr.  Ridgely!"  she  said  weakly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  began,  "  but  you're 
a  mighty  reckless  rider.  I've  been  watching  you 
since  you  crossed  the  bridge." 

It  was  a  bad  beginning.  Carol's  color  came 
flooding  back  in  a  wave  of  resentment. 

"  Besides,"  continued  the  young  horseman, 
"  this  is  not  the  sort  of  mount  for  such  a  young 
and  inexperienced  girl." 

Carol's  black  eyes  blazed  indignantly.  With 
high  school  days  a  good  month  back,  it  was  too 
much.  Moreover,  Larry's  young  assistant  was 
no  patriarch  himself. 

'  Your  own  acquaintance  with  the  ballot  and 
the  shaving  cup,"  she  flashed  insolently,  "is,  I 
imagine,  still  in  its  infancy." 

Angry   astonishment   flamed   up   in   Lloyd's 


164          The  Lovable  Meddler 

eyes.  Twenty-two  is  of  course  none  too  partial 
to  careless  mention  of  the  ballot  and  the  shaving 
cup.  .  ,  .  And  this  from  Rose's  little 
sister! 

"  Besides,  the  horse  happens  to  belong  to  a 
girl!" 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  that,"  said  Lloyd  with 
dignity.  "  He  is  Jean  Glenmuir's  magnificent 
Ginger,  but  Miss  Glenmuir  is  a  superb  and 
thorough  horsewoman  and  not  a  little  girl. 
Borrowed  mounts  are  mighty  dangerous 
experiments." 

Carol  glanced  at  his  own  black  mount  and 
scored  with  a  flash  of  her  beautiful,  taunting 
eyes. 

"  Mr.  Glenmuir's  magnificent  Rajah,  isn't 
it?"  she  murmured. 

Lloyd  colored  at  the  apt  retort  and  bit  his 
lip  but  for  answer  he  merely  wheeled  about 
and  rode  beside  her,  one  hand  upon  the  run- 
away's bridle. 

"  What,  may  I  ask,  are  you  going  to  do? " 
demanded  the  girl  on  Ginger's  back. 

"  I  am  going  to  lead  you  back  home  in 
safety,"  explained  Mr.  Ridgely  stiffly. 

Carol's  temper,  at  no  time  an  insignificant  item 
in  her  high-strung  nature,  slipped  its  moorings. 
Trembling  with  anger  she  grandly  commanded 


Chapter  Fifteen  165 

him  to  drop  Ginger's  bridle  and  let  her  pass! 
This  the  determined  young  man  obstinately 
declined  to  do. 

Carol  scoffed  and  stormed  and  even  pleaded, 
stung  into  desperation  by  the  prospect  of  a 
humiliating  return  to  the  Hame  o'  Roses  led 
by  this  high  and  mighty  young  man  with  the 
angry  eyes,  but  his  hand  remained  upon  the 
bridle,  and  though  he  said  nothing  and  stared 
straight  ahead  as  they  rode,  Carol  saw  from 
the  corner  of  her  eye  that  his  mouth  was  grim 
and  the  smooth  tan  of  his  skin  somewhat 
flushed.  Moreover,  the  hand  upon  the  bridle 
was  brown  and  strong  and  well-formed. 

Thus  they  rode  along,  angrily  appraising  each 
other's  youth  and  borrowed  steeds,  and  thus  at 
last  like  a  beautiful  captive  of  war,  Carol  rode 
up  the  driveway  of  the  Hame  o'  Roses.  To 
Jean,  who  greeted  the  pair  with  mystified  eyes, 
Lloyd  gravely  consigned  his  charge  and  rode 
away,  touching  his  riding  crop  to  his  forehead 
in  salute  as  he  went.  And  on  the  veranda 
Doctor  Roderick  raised  quizzical  eyes  from  his 
evening  paper  and  looking  first  at  the  angry 
scarlet  in  Carol's  cheeks  and  then  at  the  dignified 
back  of  the  retreating  horseman,  took  refuge  as 
usual  in  cryptic  quotation: 

"Hum!"  he  murmured. 


166  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  The  black-headed  eagle 
As  keen  as  a  beagle 
He  hunted  o'er  height  and  o'er  howe; 
But  fell  in  a  trap 
On  the  braes  o'  Gemappe; 
E'en  let  him  come  out  as  he  dowe." 


Chapter  16 
The  evolution  of  the  schemie 

NORM  AX,  the  Doctor  suspected,  still  con- 
tinued his  romantic  activity.  In  this  he 
was  right. 

There  came  a  night  when,  whistling  a  little 
self-consciously,  Norman  arrived  at  the  Hame  o' 
Roses.  In  the  Doctor's  office  he  held  out  his 
hand  and  apologized  manfully  for  falling  in 
love  with  Jerry's  lass,  for  talking  so  much  of  a 
duel  and  an  aeroplane  and  for  any  other  irra- 
tionalities the  schemie  had  developed. 

"  Made  a  regular  ass  of  myself,  you  know! " 
he  regretted,  coloring,  but  the  Doctor  only 
beamed  with  pleasure  and  patting  his  repentant 
henchman  upon  the  back,  ordered  a  pot  of 
Flora's  coffee  to  celebrate  the  occasion. 

Over  this  peace-pot  of  coffee  it  developed  that 
Norman  hoped  the  Doctor  wouldn't  think  he  had 
really  gone  and  fallen  in  love  with  Lucia 
Weston  for  spite,  as  he  had  threatened  that 
ridiculous  night,  but,  well,  frankly  —  this  with 
flaring  color  and  boyish  apology  in  his  round 
blue  eyes  —  the  mischief  was  done.  Lucia  was 

167 


168  The  Lovable  Meddler 

such  a  splendid  good  fellow!  And  Roger,  fat 
as  he  was,  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the  other 
twin,  Eileen,  and  then  by  ways  many  and 
devious  Norman  had  contrived  to  get  Quin 
interested  in  Sonia,  and  Grant  in  Marcia  — 

But  here  the  Doctor  and  Norman  shook  hands 
again  over  the  coffee  pot  and  beamed  at  each 
other,  from  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  a 
coffee  pot  of  peace  is  no  whit  inferior  to  the 
fabled  pipe  of  peace  of  which  we  read. 

'Tis  a  matter  of  verra  great  regret  with 
me,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  "  but,  Norm,  I  feel 
it  comin'  over  me  again  most  uncommon  strong 
that  I  must  meddle  again  myself  with  the 
schemie  and  help  undo  a  bit  of  my  own  tanglin'. 
I  canna  have  you  burdened  with  all  the  task." 

But  Norm  counseled  patience.  Dame  Fate, 
he  suggested,  might  have  but  little  need  of 
further  assistance.  Already  she  was  probably 
gathering  in  the  flying  threads  of  romance  her 
henchmen  had  loosened  for  a  busy  bit  of  weaving 
through  the  winter. 

Later,  when  Norman  had  departed,  the 
Doctor  drew  forward  his  paper  of  maneuvers  by 
way  of  a  brief  post-mortem  and  made  a  wry 
face.  Of  all  the  miscarriages  of  plan  which 
that  document  suggested,  he  told  himself,  cer- 
tainly the  unexpected  devotion  of  the  lazy  fat 


Chapter  Sixteen  1G9 

lads  for  the  Weston  twins  was  by  far  the  most 
astonishing ! 

Now  presently,  to  the  Doctor's  consternation, 
the  infectious  energy  of  the  twins  crept  into 
Norm  and  Roger,  and  nights  in  the  cellar  gym- 
nasium built  by  the  twins  themselves  the  four 
pounded  madly  away  at  punching  bags  or 
fenced  to  the  clash  of  buttoned  foils. 

One  of  these  exhibitions  the  Doctor  himself 
attended,  staring  so  hard  all  the  while  that  his 
eyes  seemed  ever  ready  to  pop  from  his  head  in 
amazement. 

"Jerry!"  he  whispered.  "  Dinna  tell  me 
that's  Norm  scallawaggin'  about  that  bag  of 
wind  like  a  Catling  gun!  I  just  winna  believe 
it." 

But  Norman  it  assuredly  was,  and  Eileen 
banging  away  at  the  other  bag,  brushed  a  mist 
of  hair  from  her  forehead  and  turned  to  the 
Doctor,  brown  eyes  dancing  impishly  and  a  riot 
of  healthy  color  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Wait,"  she  said  proudly,  "  until  you  see 
Roger!  Whirlwind,  isn't  he,  Lucia?" 

'Whirlwind!"  nodded  the  other  twin  and 
with  that  Roger  appeared  unexpectedly  from  a 
coal  bin  where  he  had  been  adjusting  a  pair  of 
tennis  shoes,  and  strutting  about  with  an  acro- 
batic exhibition  of  muscle,  suddenly  fell  tooth 


170  The  Lovable  Meddler 

and  nail  upon  a  punching  bag  and  to  a  whistled 
obligate  by  the  twins  pummeled  away  with  such 
terrific  earnestness  and  energy  that  the  Doctor's 
jaw  dropped  and  remained  dropped  till  Quin, 
laughing  so  hard  he  was  forced  to  wipe  his 
glasses,  led  a  cheer  that  was  worth  considerable 
commendation  in  itself. 

After  that  the  Doctor  felt  he  could  not 
reasonably  be  astonished  at  anything. 

"  No  doubt  at  all  about  it,  Agnes,"  confided 
the  Doctor  late  that  night,  "  the  lads  are  nothing 
like  so  fat.  The  two  of  them  are  becomin*  so 
mortal  sturdy  and  muscular  I  would  not  have 
believed  it.  And  just  to  think,  lass,  I  had  a 
finger  in  the  pie  myself.  For  'twill  all  be 
growin'  out  of  my  b  re  win'  the  peck  o'  maut.  If 
I  hadn't  dabbled  a  bit  in  Cupidin'  and  sent 
Leddy  Rose  out  to  Larry  in  the  moonlight,  I 
wouldn't  have  thought  of  marryin'  t'other  lads 
and  lasses  off;  and  Norm  and  Roger  would 
still  be  fat.  My  schemie  already  has  accom- 
plished a  deal  of  guid." 

But  Mrs.  Glenmuir  merely  said:  "Poor 
Larry!" 

"  Dear  lass,"  said  the  Doctor  writh  moist  eyes, 
"  every  string  I  pull  is  leadin'  toward  him!  " 

Intensely  and  romantically  active,  Norman 
organized  an  orchestra  to  bring  the  Doctor's  lads 


Chapter  Sixteen  171 

and  lasses  more  frequently  together  and,  hor- 
rified at  the  thought  of  meeting  Carol,  Lloyd 
found  himself  swept  into  it  with  the  others. 

From  the  Weston  attic  Marcia  and  Sonia 
disinterred  a  battered  cornet  and  a  trombone, 
relics  of  a  fraternity  orchestra  in  school  days. 
June  applied  her  musical  aptitude  to  a  French 
horn  that  hung  idle  in  Jerry's  studio,  and  Carol, 
catching  the  contagion,  stealthily  acquired  an 
ocarina  and  was  presently  discovered  in  the 
cellar  gymnasium  consulting  a  small  book  and 
making  a  variety  of  mournful,  dove-like  noises. 

The  twins  settled  their  problem  one  Saturday 
afternoon  upon  the  roof  of  the  barn  to  which 
Lisbeth  had  deputed  them  to  mend  the  shingles. 
All  repairs  from  plumbing  on  were  referred 
to  the  twins. 

"  Lucia,"  began  Eileen,  vigorously  hammer- 
ing a  nail  into  place,  "  just  what  do  you  think  of 
a  bassoon?  Like  'em?  " 

"  Fine  instrument,"  nodded  Lucia.  "  I 
almost  always  watch  the  bassoon  man  in  an 
orchestra.  Fascinating." 

Eileen  produced  another  nail  from  the  pocket 
of  her  sweater  and  eyed  the  shingle. 

"  Well,  now,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that's  gratify- 
ing, I  declare  it  is.  Most  gratifying.  I  was 
a  little  afraid  you  might  not  care  for  it."  And 


172  The  Lovable  Meddler 

of  one  accord  the  two  fell  to  hammering  again, 
whistling  away  at  the  inevitable  duet  and  making 
such  a  clatter  on  the  barn  roof  that  Rose  looked 
out,  smiled  and  waved  encouragement. 

"  Eileen,"  said  Lucia  as  they  scrambled 
nimbly  over  the  roof  to  another  hole,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  bass  fiddles?  Like  'em?" 

Eileen  liked  bass  fiddles  quite  as  well  as  bas- 
soons and  said  so,  whereupon  the  embryo 
musicians  regarded  each  other  with  quizzical 
amusement. 

"  Our  minds  most  always  run  the  same,  ever 
noticed,  Eileen? "  laughed  Lucia  in  delighted 
surprise  at  this  eternal  fact. 

"  Often!  "  nodded  Eileen. 

"  Bassoon  it  is  then? "  queried  Lucia  as  they 
slid  from  the  barn  roof. 

"  Bassoon  it  is.    Bass  fiddle  for  you,  Lucia?  " 

"  Bass  fiddle  for  me." 

This  ambitious  choice  was  received  by  Roger 
and  Norman  with  gales  of  laughter  and  later 
the  pair  departed  on  a  secret  expedition  during 
which  they  acquired  an  ancient  bassoon  which 
Norman  insisted  upon  disinfecting  and  a  mam- 
moth bass  fiddle,  both  of  which  were  dispatched 
to  the  Weston  home. 

And  then  indeed  the  echoes  awoke!  The 
trumpeting  of  the  others  was  quite  lost  in 


Chapter  Sixteen  173 

the  throaty  quack  of  Gargantuan  ducks  and  the 
distant  boom  of  cannon  that  rumbled  forth  from 
the  southwest  bedroom,  and  when  at  last  the 
twins  with  their  musical  giants  took  their  places 
in  the  orchestra,  they  were  radiant  with  the  pride 
of  achievement  and  jointly  boomed  forth  a  very 
creditable  though  periodic  bass. 

At  the  first  rehearsal  of  Norman's  terrible 
orchestra,  Lloyd  and  Carol  met  —  to  Lloyd's 
utter  consternation.  For  Carol's  skirts  had 
lengthened  and  her  thick  black  hair,  graduated 
from  its  girlish  dressing  like  the  rest  of  her,  lay 
heaped  in  a  shining  mass  upon  her  head,  adding 
vastly  to  her  height  and  to  her  beauty.  Catch- 
ing the  mockery  in  her  eyes,  Lloyd  burned  with 
dismay  at  the  memory  of  his  high-sounding 
speeches  to  the  indignant  little  girl  on  Ginger's 
back.  Carol's  womanhood  somehow  colored  his 
advice  into  the  rankest  of  presumption.  But 
Carol  was  elaborately  sweet  and  polite  to  her 
disturbed  rescuer  and  an  armed  truce  sprang 
up  between  the  two,  much  too  carefully  con- 
cealed for  the  others  to  suspect  or  question. 

It  was  an  enthusiastic  orchestra,  this  circle  of 
the  Doctor's  lads  and  lasses,  with  Jean  at  the 
piano  and  Bob  looming  large  behind  a  piccolo. 
But  when  at  last  Grant  rapped  professionally 
upon  his  music  stand  for  the  "  attack,"  the 


174          The  Lovable  Meddler 

cataclysm  of  sound  he  evoked  was  encouraging, 
to  say  the  least,  though  to  be  sure  Quin 
promptly  clapped  his  hands  over  his  ears  with 
a  groan  of  dismay  and  Rodney  emerged  from 
the  studio  in  nervous  inquiry. 

The  Doctor  sat  stoically  through  an  evening 
of  it  but  his  homeward  comment  was  remorseful. 

"  Roderick  Glenmuir,"  he  sternly  apos- 
trophized himself,  "  ye  have  been  verra  proud 
and  sinful,  I  notice,  about  havin*  a  finger  in  the 
energy  of  the  two  lazy  fat  lads;  but  now  ye 
can  just  remember  for  a  bit  of  penance  that  ye 
are  likewise  partway  responsible  for  that  fearful 
orchestra!  Ye  can  not  with  fairness  blame  it  all 
upon  Norm.  Guid  faith,  I  did  not  know  so 
many  strange  sounds  could  go  scallawaggin' 
about  the  same  house.  'Tis  a  verra  guid  thing 
Jerry's  janitor  was  not  about.  And  my,  my, 
my!  Poor  Rodney's  nerves!" 

But  it  was  not  a  time  for  lengthy  courtships, 
warned  the  Doctor,  with  poor  Larry  in  exile. 
So,  after  Norman  and  the  terrible  orchestra 
had  cemented  the  schemie,  a  call  went  forth  to 
the  Music  Box  and  the  Cave;  and  the  Doctor's 
lads  assembled  around  a  midnight  pot  of  coffee, 
with  Norman  backing  the  Doctor's  romantic 
proposition  as  a  loyal  henchman  should  and 
Roger  dealing  fat  black  cigars  around  like  so 


Chapter  Sixteen  175 

many  cards.  And  above  stairs  Mrs.  Glenmuir 
listened  to  the  booming  of  the  Doctor's  voice 
with  foreboding. 

So  eventually  the  Doctor's  lads  went  forth 
pledged  to  romantic  assistance  in  the  untangling 
of  Larry's  wooing  and  the  Doctor  impatiently 
awaited  the  outcome,  hoping  that  he  had  thrown 
a  "  stone  into  the  pool "  whose  ever-widening 
circles  would  presently  lap  the  shores  of  Syria. 


Chapter  17 

Tells  a  tale  of  a  borrowed  shirt  —  how  once  more 

Lloyd  is  sent  to  rescue  Carol,  and 

the  startling  result 


RANT,"  said  Quin,  auditing  the  week's 
accounts,  "  how  much  was  spinach  your 
week?" 

"  Oh,  Lord,  Quin,"  snapped  Grant,  "  shut  up  ! 
Can't  a  man  read  his  paper  in  peace?  Here- 
after when  you're  housekeeper  I'm  going  awa}^ 
You've  driven  Lloyd  out  of  the  room  and  right 
here's  where  I  go  too!"  And  Grant  gathered 
up  his  pipe  and  papers. 

"  If  I  was  satisfied  to  charge  up  the  week's 
deficit  to  '  Inexplicable  Eccentricities  of  Domes- 
tic Staff  '  the  way  you've  entered  it  here  in 
your  week,"  Quin  shot  after  him  huffily,  "  we'd 
never  get  things  untangled." 

"  Quin  makes  me  tired  with  his  system," 
grumbled  Grant,  rambling  into  Lloyd's  room 
and  seating  himself  by  the  window.  "  Where 
you  going?  " 

"  Out  !  "  said  Lloyd,  dabbing  at  his  hair  with 
a  pair  of  military  brushes. 

176 


Chapter  Seventeen  177 

Grant's  eyes  widened.  "  My  Lord ! "  he 
exclaimed,  aggrieved.  '  There  certainly  are 
some  splendid  grouches  abroad  this  morning." 

With  a  clatter  of  discarded  brushes,  Lloyd 
fell  to  jerking  open  a  series  of  bureau  drawers. 

"  Wonder  what  particular  catastrophe  inter- 
fered with  the  distribution  of  the  laundry  this 
week?"  he  demanded.  "Ye  Gods!  I  never 
have  a  shirt.  G  et  your  laundry,  Grant  ?  " 

"  Naw.    O'Hagan  forgot  to  send  it." 

Lloyd  stared  in  blank  dismay  at  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Borrow  one  of  Norm's  shirts,"  advised 
Grant.  "  He's  got  most  a  million.  Socks  and 
ties  to  match  'em,  too.  And  Norm's  shirts  are 
lots  less  horizontal  since  he  got  thinner." 

To  which  Lloyd  made  no  reply,  merely 
wheeling  indignantly  to  summon  O'Hagan. 

"Hell's  bells!"  muttered  O'Hagan  in  the 
kitchen.  "  The  young  lad  has  no  shirt.  'Twill 
likely  be  that  he's  callin'  for."  And  bolting 
from  the  room  he  presently  returned  with  a 
shirt  from  the  Cave,  by  no  means  an  unusual 
proceeding  when  O'Hagan  needed  anything. 

Lloyd  donned  the  offering  in  disgust,  his 
disappearance  immediately  preceding  Norman's 
scandalized  arrival  in  the  Music  Box. 

"  Who  in  thunder  shanghaied  my  lavender 


178  The  Lovable  Meddler 

shirt?"  he  sputtered.  "It's  my  favorite.  Of 
all  the  nerve  —  " 

But  O'Hagan  drew  the  indignant  visitor  into 
the  kitchen  with  a  gesture  of  apology. 

"  The  young  lad  was  goin'  out,"  he  whispered, 
"  and  I  rummaged  a  bit.  Don't  stir  the  lads  up 
about  the  laundry,  Mr.  Norman.  Since  Mr. 
Larry  sailed,  they're  that  irritable  'tis  no  trouble 
at  all  to  stir  'em  up  over  trifles." 

So  Norman  graciously  permitted  himself  to  be 
mollified  and  later  dispatched  a  generous  margin 
of  shirts  to  the  Music  Box  to  cover  the  shortage 
in  laundry. 

"  Can't  I  see  what  the  trouble  is  over  there?  " 
he  confided  darkly  to  Jerry  and  Roger.  "  Don't 
I  know?  They  miss  old  Larry.  I  do  myself. 
It's  the  vacant  chair,  that's  what  it  is!  The 
silent  cello  —  the  empty  bed  —  " 

"Dry  up!"  commanded  Roger.  "It's  my 
day  of  rest." 

"  I'm  feeling  blamed  gloomy  myself," 
admitted  Jerry,  rumpling  his  black  mane. 
"  And  by  thunder! "  reverting  bitterly  to  a 
grievance  of  the  night  before  upon  which  he 
had  been  harping  since  breakfast,  "  if  Quin 
jumps  down  my  throat  again  for  leading  my 
ten  spot  when  the  ace  was  out,  in  an  unexpected 
fit  of  —  of  momentary  depression  and  absent- 


Chapter  Seventeen  179 

mindedness,  I'll  harness  my  skill  in  pinochle  to 
another  partner." 

Whereupon  Jerry  rose  and  moodily  added 
the  incident  to  his  mural  collection,  deriving 
an  immense  amount  of  satisfaction  from  the 
criminal  expression  he  contrived  to  impart  to 
Quin's  countenance. 

Now  in  very  truth  things  had  not  been  going 
well  at  the  Music  Box  since  Larry's  departure. 
There  was  a  gap  in  the  good-fellowship  of  the 
string  quartette  and  the  bed-time  rubber  of 
bridge.  Moreover,  the  Doctor  and  Bob  dropped 
in  but  infrequently,  and  Lloyd,  conscious  of  a 
business  responsibility  to  which  he  deemed  him- 
self unequal,  had  grown  nervous  and  irritable 
seeking  to  bolster  a  resolution  he  had  made  the 
day  of  Larry's  sailing  and  to  whose  fulfillment 
he  set  himself  clad  in  Norman's  shirt. 

"  It  must  be  they  haven't  realized ! "  he 
reflected,  striding  north  with  a  frowning  glance 
at  Norman's  stripes.  "  There's  really  no  other 
excuse  for  them.  If  they  haven't  —  Well,  it's 
clearly  up  to  someone  to  tell  them.  And  cer- 
tainly there's  not  a  fellow  in  the  crowd  save 
myself  who  is  capable  of  a  sane,  unsentimental- 
ized  viewpoint  where  the  Weston  girls  are 
concerned." 

To   the   echo   of   many   church   bells    Lloyd 


180  The  Lovable  Meddler 

swung  up  the  Western  walk,  pleasantly  con- 
scious of  the  Sabbath  quiet  which  drowsed  about 
the  house. 

Rose,  crossing  the  lawn  from  the  garden  with 
an  armful  of  nasturtiums,  hailed  him. 

"Good  morning,  Leddy  Rose!"  said  Lloyd, 
relieved  somehow  by  the  cheerful  music  of  hei' 
voice,  and  the  deference  Rose  always  awoke  in 
him,  flashed  up  in  his  eyes  as  he  smiled  down  at 
her,  frankly  expressing  his  admiration  for  the 
picture  she  made  laden  with  flowers.  Back- 
grounded by  the  old-fashioned  welter  of  garden 
flowers  and  the  dark  of  the  rambling  house,  she 
seemed  an  incarnation  of  the  home  spirit  framed 
in  a  mellow  coloring  as  quaintly  individual  as 
herself. 

"  The  nasturtiums  are  splendid,  aren't  they?  " 
said  Rose.  "  They're  so  brave  and  sturdy.  No 
matter  how  somber  the  day  their  corner  in  the 
garden  is  always  aglow  with  cheer.  Carol  and 
I  are  quite  alone,"  she  went  on  to  Lloyd's 
dismay.  "  June  is  playing  Beethoven  in  the 
cathedral  this  morning  and  mother  and  dad  and 
the  girls  went  with  her."  And  Rose  opened 
the  screen  door.  "  You'll  find  Carol  under  the 
apple  tree,  reading.  Suppose  you  go  rescue 
her  while  I  dispose  of  my  nasturtiums." 

Groaning  inwardly,  Lloyd  obeyed.    Rescuing 


Chapter  Seventeen  181 

Carol,  he  reflected,  was  a  task  of  uncertain  out- 
come. Wherefore,  as  he  rounded  the  house  and 
caught  the  white  flutter  of  Carol's  gown  beneath 
the  apple  tree,  he  had  a  mind  to  retreat  before 
she  saw  him. 

Dame  Fate  decreed  otherwise.  Carol  raised 
her  eyes  and  closed  her  book  and  Lloyd  was 
suddenly  aware  that  the  girl's  scarlet  tie  was 
no  brighter  than  the  color  in  her  cheeks.  More- 
over the  vivid  dash  of  color  was  a  magnificent 
foil  indeed  for  the  lustrous  jet  of  her  hair  and 
eyes. 

"  Good  morning,  Knight  of  the  Borrowed 
Steed ! "  she  called  lightly  with  scarcely  a  trace 
of  her  usual  irony. 

Considerably  astonished,  Lloyd  bowed. 

"What  ho!  my  desperate  Damsel  in  Dis- 
tress! "  he  countered  smiling  and  Carol  in  turn 
realized  that  this  annoying  phrase  bore  in  it 
utterly  unsuspected  possibilities  of  cordiality. 

Pleasantly  conventional,  Lloyd  seated  himself 
on  the  ground  beside  her  and  for  the  first  time 
in  their  unique  acquaintance,  the  velvet-gloved 
feud  seemed  in  danger  of  collapse. 

So  it  was  that  Lloyd,  gratified  at  Carol's 
cordial  serenity  in  his  presence,  passed  quickly 
from  pleasant  platitudes  to  a  more  personal 
recitation  of  his  difficulties  at  the  office,  thence 


182  The  Lovable  Meddler 

adroitly  to  the  topic  of  Larry's  exile  and  pres- 
ently to  a  very  apologetic  but  determined 
explanation  of  his  errand. 

Now  in  his  sincere  desire  to  alter  the  course 
of  destiny,  Lloyd  at  first  was  mercifully  unaware 
of  the  indignant  amazement  in  Carol's  black  eyes 
but  when  at  his  earnest  assurance  that  he  begged 
her  pardon  but  certainly  circumstances  had 
seemed  to  warrant  a  friendly  suggestion  or  so, 
she  wheeled  upon  him  with  smouldering  eyes 
and  cheeks  aflare  with  scarlet,  he  halted  aghast, 
conscious  at  last  that  his  blind  unloading  of  stock 
had  terribly  altered  the  market. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  intimate,"  demanded 
Carol,  "  that  you  have  deliberately  come  here 
this  morning  to  tell  me  how  selfish  my  sisters 
and  I  have  been  —  to  hint  that  Mother  Rose 
has  been  nothing  but  a  slave  to  us?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  was  not  quite  so  rude,"  urged 
Lloyd.  "  It  is  merely  that  —  well,  you  have 
all  been  very  busy  and  I  don't  think  you  realize 
just  what  you  have  been  taking  from  her.  Don't 
you  see,  Carol  —  " 

" Miss  Weston,  if  you  please!  " 

"  Miss  Weston,  of  course."  Lloyd  bit  his  lip. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

Now  Carol  was  very  young  and  very  indig- 
nant and  so  after  a  resentful  silence,  she 


Chapter  Seventeen  183 

ventured  one  or  two  imprudent  personalities 
about  the  ways  of  gentlemen  that  brought  the 
blood  to  Lloyd's  face,  for  the  Ridgelys  were 
a  little  vain  about  their  gentlemen.  In  an 
instant  he  was  upon  his  feet,  towering  wrath- 
fully  above  her.  Panic-stricken  Carol  shrank 
back  from  the  anger  in  his  eyes. 

"  Since  you  are  pleased  to  be  so  frank,"  he 
said,  growing  very  white,  "  permit  me  to  follow 
your  example.  Let  me  assure  you  first  that  I 
came  here  this  morning  out  of  loyalty  to  my 
chief  and  regard  for  your  sister  and  not  merely 
to  annoy  and  insult  you.  It  has  seemed  to  me 
for  weeks  now  that  I  could  not  stand  idly  by 
and  see  Rose  sacrifice  her  own  happiness  and 
Larry's  when  a  wrord  from  me  might  arouse  you 
all  to  the  thing  as  it  is.  Surely,  surely  you  have 
not  realized  of  your  own  accord!  The  fault,  as 
I  see  it,  is  not  merely  your  father's.  It  lies,  too, 
with  every  one  of  you  girls  who  have  had  your 
home  arid  your  youth  made  beautiful  by  the 
gentleness  and  self-sacrifice  of  your  sister.  Rose 
is  so  tireless,  so  cheerful  and  patient,  that  you 
do  not  realize  how  heavily  you  have  harnessed 
her  to  the  plough. 

"  And  now,  when  the  crux  of  her  life  comes, 
she  is  terribly  conscious  that  everyone  of  you 
is  leaning  upon  her.  It  has  all  been  delightfully 


184  The  Lovable  Meddler 

easy  for  the  rest  of  you.  Each  one  of  you  went 
your  way,  living  as  you  wished,  but  what  one  of 
you  ever  stopped  to  think  what  she  has  put 
behind  her  with  never  a  word  ?  What  one  of  you 
would  sacrifice  for  her  what  she  has  so  willingly 
sacrificed  for  you?  Here  are  six  of  you,  mature, 
efficient,  intelligent  women!  Surely  together 
you  could  mold  this  thing  aright  if  you  would, 
instead  of  standing  idly  by,  serene  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  your  home  life  will  continue  to  glide 
smoothly  along  in  its  comfortable  groove  with 
Rose  at  the  helm,  smiling  and  cheerful,  to  be 
sure,  but  with  God  knows  what  heartache 
underneath. 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  he  stormed  as  Carol  stared,  "  I 
know  she  cares!  How  I  know  is  of  no  moment 
now.  Moreover,  I  know  her  worth.  Do  you? 
Year  by  year  you  have  gone  calmly  on,  accept- 
ing her  as  the  logical  handmaid  of  your 
domestic  needs,  as  a  necessary  and  comfortable 
factor  of  your  existence.  Do  any  of  you  know 
what  you  have  really  had  in  her?  A  beautiful, 
God- given  miracle  —  an  inspiration !  You  will 
know  that  perhaps  when  you  have  killed  her 
among  you.  You  are  blind,  every  one  of  you! 
Do  you  think  she  is  iron  that  she  can  lay  aside 
her  youth,  her  ambitions  and  even  love,  and  go 
cheerfully  on  to  the  end,  smiling?  How  much 


Chapter  Seventeen  185 

has  she  done  for  you  and  what  have  any  of  you 
ever  done  for  her?  We  men  of  the  South  are 
taught  to  revere  a  woman.  Why,  my  mother 
never  enters  a  room  but  that  Dad  is  instantly 
upon  his  feet.  He  would  not  dream  of  sitting 
while  a  woman  is  standing  and  here  —  "  his  eyes 
blazed  indignant  reproach  at  her  — "  here  I 
have  seen  Rose  get  up  to  give  your  father  the 
easiest  chair.  .  .  .  And  he  took  it  as  his 
due!" 

With  set  lips  Carol  rose. 

"  Permit  me,"  she  said  stiffly,  "  to  escort  you 
to  the  gate!" 

Lloyd  wheeled,  scarlet  with  humiliation. 
Insolently  courteous,  Carol  kept  beside  him  to 
the  gate,  angrily  elated  at  the  manner  of  his 
going.  So,  like  an  irate  spinster  who  has  found 
her  youthful  nephew  stealing  jam,  Carol 
marched  her  humiliated  adviser  to  the  street. 

"  Let  me  thank  you,"  she  murmured  sweetly, 
"  for  your  forcefully  expressed  interest  in  our 
family  affairs.  It  is  refreshing  to  find  one  who 
is  so  youthful  and  at  the  same  time  so  —  so 
considerate.  And  permit  me,"  she  added  malici- 
ously, "  to  remark  how  well  you  are  looking  in 
Norman's  lavender  shirt.  It  is  vastly  becoming." 

Raging,  Lloyd  flung  off  up  the  street.  A 
borrowed  horse  that  other  day  and  now  a  bor- 


186          The  Lovable  Meddler 

rowed  shirt!  His  face  grew  hot.  Ridiculous 
climax  indeed  to  his  ranting!  And  bitterly 
anathematizing  the  distinctive  pattern  of  the 
lavender  shirt  and  the  Fate  that,  he  now  remem- 
bered, had  made  it  Norman's  favorite,  Lloyd 
recalled  his  high-sounding  advice  to  the  indig- 
nant little  girl  on  Ginger's  back  and  felt  that  he 
had  acquitted  himself  no  better  to-day. 

As  for  Carol,  she  hummed  carelessly  as  she 
turned  back  up  the  walk  but  later  in  her  own 
room  she  flung  herself  face  downward  upon 
the  bed  with  a  sob  of  realization.  For  Carol 
had  fancied  Larry's  fate  but  the  inevitable  out- 
come of  Rose's  gentle  immunity,  but  now,  with 
the  truth  before  her,  she  sobbed  passionately  in 
remorse.  Dear,  dear  Mother  Rose,  with  her 
cheery  forethought  for  them  all!  How  blind 
they  had  been  indeed! 

Pleading  headache,  Carol  kept  to  her  room 
until  nightfall,  alternately  aflame  at  the  memory 
of  Lloyd's  indignant  rebuke  or  choking  back 
her  tears  at  thoughts  of  Rose.  As  for  her 
sisters,  they  too  must  know  of  Rose's  sacrifice. 
With  the  relieved  thought  of  laying  the  prob- 
lem before  the  clear-headed  sanity  of  Marcia 
and  Sonia,  Carol  rose  and  brushed  her  hair. 

Now,  insistent  goad  to  her  resentment  came 
the  picture  of  Lloyd,  handsome,  masterful, 


Chapter  Seventeen  187 

indignant,  as  he  had  towered  above  her  beneath 
the  apple  tree,  and  her  face  flamed.  Once  again 
she  had  lost  her  temper  under  the  level  scorn 
of  Lloyd  Ridgely's  eyes;  once  again  she  had 
acted  like  a  "  little  girl."  And  then  out  of 
the  confused  memory  of  the  morning  one  phrase 
rang  clearly  in  her  ears: 

"  Here  are  six  of  you,  mature,  efficient,  intel- 
ligent women ! " 

"  Six  of  you  .  .  .  women! "  For  the 
first  time  since  the  morning  Carol  smiled. 

Came  the  echo  of  the  evening  church  bells 
through  the  dusk,  the  clatter  of  china  and  silver 
below  stairs  and  the  laughter  of  girls  and  men 
larking,  in  accordance  with  a  weekly  custom, 
over  the  preparation  of  the  Sunday  supper. 
Carol  slipped  noiselessly  to  the  stairway  and 
listened. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Sonia,"  came  Marcia's 
crisp  tones  through  the  clatter,  "  don't  let  Quin 
put  so  much  mustard  in  the  rarebit.  Grant,  you 
cut  the  bread.  Jerry  is  carving  wedges." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  came  in  gloomy  scorn  from 
Jerry;  "  see  if  Grant  can  do  any  better.  Do, 
by  all  means.  I've  already  cut  my  finger." 

Then  the  usual  consultation  of  the  twins. 

"  Lucia,  just  what  sort  of  sandwich  would 
you  like  to-night? " 


188  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Well,  now,  Eileen,  I'm  inclined  to  favor 
lettuce." 

"Excellent  suggestion!  Roger,  get  the 
lettuce." 

No,  reflected  Carol,  Lloyd  had  not  dared 
to  come  after  all.  Conscious  then  of  another 
gap  in  the  chatter,  she  leaned  intently  over  the 
railing.  Why,  Rose  was  not  there  either,  busy, 
ever-present  Mother  Rose!  And  hurrying  to 
her  sister's  door,  Carol  knocked  and  entered. 

By  the  window,  a  quiet  figure  in  the  dusk, 
Rose  turned,  her  startled  fingers  tensing  upon 
a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  Headache  better,  dear? "  she  questioned. 
But  Carol  did  not  answer.  For  there  was 
something  in  Rose's  voice  to-night  that  hurt 
her  throat,  and  with  one  of  the  old,  passionate 
impulses  of  her  childhood  which  only  Mother 
Rose  had  understood  and  condoned,  she  flung 
herself  on  her  knees  and  buried  her  face  in 
Rose's  lap,  shaking  and  sobbing  so  violently  that 
Rose  bent  over  her  in  alarm. 

"  Carol,  what  is  it?  Are  you  ill?  Is  your 
headache  so  much  worse  ?  " 

But  Carol  merely  shook  her  head  and  Rose, 
slipping  her  arm  gently  about  the  girl's 
shoulders,  wisely  waited  for  the  storm  to  pass. 

"I  —  we  —  did  not  know,"  Carol  was  saying 


Chapter  Seventeen  189 

incoherently.  "  Larry's  going  —  it  —  it  seemed 
like  all  the  others.  Rose,"  her  voice  trailed  off 
in  a  sob,  "  I  am  going  to  take  your  place  and 
keep  house  for  mother  —  " 

But  it  was  like  Rose  to  make  no  pretense 
of  misunderstanding  when  the  truth  lay  so 
clearly  before  her.  So,  bending  over  Carol  with 
that  wonderful  touch  of  motherhood  which  each 
of  her  sisters  knew  so  well,  she  began  to  speak  - 
with  what  effort  of  will  no  one  but  herself 
knew  —  of  the  reasons  why  her  course  was  after 
all  the  best. 

It  was  a  sincere  and  simple  expression  of 
Rose's  viewpoint  and  Rose's  call  to  duty,  and 
when  she  finished,  her  face  white  in  the  kindly 
shelter  of  the  dusk,  Carol  shrank  back  appalled 
at  her  glimpse  of  Rose's  many  chains. 

"  Nevertheless,"  she  faltered  bravely,  "  I  —  I 
am  going  to  try  to  do  that  all  for  you,  Rose.  In 
time,  I'm  sure  —  " 

But  Rose's  refusal  to  accept  her  sister's  offer 
was  cheerful  and  emphatic. 

"  Why,  Carol,"  she  reminded,  "  you  must 
remember  how  young  you  are,  how  much  you 
hate  housework  and  —  forgive  me,  won't  you  ?  — 
how  little  after  all  you  know  of  it.  And  then 
there's  the  academy  course  just  begun  and  your 
elocution  plans  all  coming  along  so  splendidly. 


190          The  Lovable  Meddler 

And,  besides,  Mother  and  I  are  the  only  ones 
who  can  manage  that  dear  little  imp  of  a  Tavia. 
It's  more  than  good  of  you  to  offer,  but,  believe 
me,  dear,  my  way  is  best." 

Carol  clung  to  her  in  new  rebellion. 

"  Oh,  Rose,"  she  cried,  "  why,  why  is  not  our 
family  life  like  others  —  with  —  with  Mother 
here  —  "  but  Rose  laid  gentle  fingers  upon  the 
girl's  impetuous  lips. 

'  You  must  try  to  see,  Carol,"  she  said  quietly, 
"  that  if  there  are  some  things  which  seem  — • 
well,  not  so  normal  and  well-balanced  as  they 
might  be,  there  are  others  which  make  the  scale 
swing  true  and  even.  Surely  in  all  Auburnia 
you  will  not  find  so  happy  and  congenial  a 
family  as  we." 

Rose's  will  was  of  splendid  fiber.  How  much 
it  had  cost  her  to  keep  her  voice  tranquil  and 
even,  Carol  never  knew,  but  now  as  the  younger 
girl  hurried  away  to  bathe  her  face  and  eyes, 
Rose  watched  the  door  close  with  tired  eyes.  A 
letter  slipped  from  her  hand  to  the  floor  where 
it  lay  a  patch  of  white  in  the  dusk.  Mother 
Rose  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  with  a 
strangled  sob  of  grief  and  self-reproach,  for  the 
contents  of  the  letter  had  been  brave  and  reas- 
suring and  the  postmark  —  Syria. 


Chapter  18 
Tells  of  a  midnight  meeting  in  the  Attic  Nursery 

AND  that,"  finished  Carol  very  quietly,  "  is 
why  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to-night 
when  the  house  was  quiet.    It  has  seemed  to  me 
all  day  that  the  rest  of  you  should  know." 

In  the  silence  the  clock  upon  the  nursery 
mantel  struck  twelve.  Outside  a  round  Septem- 
ber moon  rode  high  above  the  barn,  showering 
the  orchard  with  silver.  It  streamed  brightly  in 
at  the  attic  windows  to  fall  full  upon  the  sober 
faces  of  Rose's  sisters.  To  this  old  attic  room, 
which,  littered  now  with  Tavia's  toys,  had 
framed  the  romping  days  of  every  one  of  them, 
they  had  come  at  Carol's  command,  to  sit 
huddled  upon  the  floor  in  the  moonlight  while 
she  talked. 

June  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  am  blaming  myself,"  she  said,  "  for  not 
suspecting.  I  am  home  here  more  than  the  rest 
of  you." 

'  You  have  been  busy  with  your  music," 
urged  Marcia  fairly.  '  There  is  no  one  of  us 
more  in  fault  than  the  others." 

101 


192          The  Lovable  Meddler 

'  We  have  all  been  too  busy,"  said  Sonia,  "  to 
realize  that  Rose  is  even  busier.  Lloyd  was 
light.  We've  been  taking  things  too  much  for 
granted.  I  —  I'm  afraid  we've  harnessed  her 
to  the  plough  without  a  thought  of  what  it 
might  mean  to  her.  As  for  not  knowing  her 
worth,  there  I  think  he's  wrong.  To  me  Mother 
Rose  has  been  a  wonderful,  a  beautiful  inspira- 
tion! I  think  that's  true  of  all  of  us.  It  is  even 
less  to  our  credit,  knowing  her  worth  as  we  do, 
that  we  have  harnessed  her  so."  Marble-white 
in  the  moonlight,  Sonia's  profile  seemed  that  of 
a  stern  and  beautiful  goddess.  "  I  have  not 
forgotten,"  she  added,  "  how  Rose  insisted  upon 
my  college  course  when  the  family  could  ill 
afford  to  let  me  finish.  Anything,  everything  I 
have  accomplished  came  through  Rose's  faith  in 
me  and  her  readiness  to  help  by  paring  down 
expenses." 

"  It  was  the  same  with  business  college  for 
me,"  nodded  Marcia.  "  Rose  would  have  it  that 
Mother's  secretary  must  not  be  handicapped  for 
want  of  training.  I'd  almost  forgotten  it,  I 
must  admit,  but  it  was  to  provide  funds  for  me 
that  Rose  eliminated  the  family  dressmaker  and 
took  her  place,  how  efficiently  we  all  know." 

Deeply  stirred  by  these  bits  of  reminiscence 
June  bit  her  lips  courageously. 


Chapter  Eighteen  193 

"  Now  when  I  stop  to  think  of  all  Rose  has 
done  for  me,"  she  faltered,  "  I  wonder  that  — 
that  I  haven't  been  decent  enough  to  think  of 
it  before.  I  —  why  —  every  bit  of  music  I 
have,  Rose  taught  me.  And  I  —  I  haven't  done 
a  blessed  thing  for  her." 

High-strung  and  emotional  June  began  to  cry 
and  there  was  a  general  stir.  June's  and  Carol's 
flashes  of  temperament,  frequently  commingled 
as  they  were  with  tears,  were  mildly  unpopular 
with  the  others. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  June,"  protested  Marcia, 
"  you're  wasting  nerve  force.  It's  not  hearts 
we  need  to-night  as  much  as  heads." 

'  We  need  a  judicious  mixture  of  the  two," 
flashed  Carol.  "  You  and  Sonia  run  too  much 
to  head.  I'm  just  beginning  to  realize  what 
it  must  have  meant  to  Rose  to  give  up  her  art 
course  and  step  into  Mother's  place  with  Tavia 
seven  months  old." 

"  Suppose,"  reminded  Marcia,  "  that  we  get 
right  down  to  the  business  in  hand.  We're 
wasting  time.  To-night  it's  not  so  much  what 
Rose  has  done  for  us,  I  take  it,  for  she's  left  an 
unforgettable  imprint  on  the  lives  of  every  one 
of  us,  it's  —  what  have  we  ever  done  for  her? 
What  are  we  going  to  do  for  her  now?  Here 
she  is  —  too  busy  to  indulge  a  single  personal 


194          The  Lovable  Meddler 

interest.  Loving  books  and  too  busy  to  read 
them,  loving  music  and  too  busy  to  play  save 
when  she's  needed  to  accompany  someone 
else  —  " 

"  Loving  Larry,"  put  in  Sonia,  "  and  too  busy 
to  marry  him." 

Marcia  nodded. 

"  Keeping  house  for  us  all  in  that  wonderful, 
clear-headed,  scientific  way  of  hers,"  she  went 
on,  tabulating  Rose's  many  duties  upon  her 
fingers,  "  balancing  her  books  each  week  as 
rigidly  as  a  bookkeeper,  buying  like  a  profes- 
sional buyer,  scrimping,  pinching,  paring  away 
expenses,  mothering  that  imp  of  a  Tavia  and 
dressmaking  for  Carol  and  Tavia  and  herself, 
patching  and  darning  for  ten  people  and  doing 
all  the  baking  and  fussy  cooking  to  boot,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  job  of  official  adviser  to  all  of  us. 
Great  Guns!  Let  me  tell  you  it  takes  brains 
and  grit  and  endurance  to  manage  like  that. 
Where  she  finds  the  time  for  it  all  I  can't  pre- 
tend to  see.  And,  moreover,  though  the  Lord 
knows  how,  she's  contrived  to  save  enough  this 
year  to  have  the  barn  shingled  and  to  contribute 
along  with  the  rest  of  us  toward  that  infernal 
loan!" 

All  this  while  the  twins  had  sat  huddled  side 
by  side  upon  the  attic  floor  in  stony  silence, 


Chapter  Eighteen  195 

petrified  by  horrified  realization.  Now  in  the 
hush  that  followed  Marcia's  tribute,  they  faced 
each  other  with  grave,  accusing  eyes. 

"  And  with  all  those  things  to  do,"  said 
Eileen,  "  you,  Lucia  Weston,  went  and  asked 
Rose  to  wash  my  sweater  herself  for  fear  it 
would  shrink!  And  she  did  it." 

"Guilty!"  owned  Lucia  bitterly.  "What's 
more,  Rose  has  been  ironing  my  linen  coat 
herself  for  a  month  now  because  you,  Eileen 
Weston,  went  and  told  her  Mrs.  Marony  ironed 
creases  in  it.  Moreover,  with  brazen  nerve  both 
of  us  went  and  asked  her  to  draw  the  plans  for 
the  cellar  gymnasium.  And  she  did  it!  "  and  the 
twins  turned  shocked,  remorseful  faces  upon  the 
others. 

"  All  of  which,"  said  June,  "  merely  goes  to 
prove  that  Rose  never  seems  to  hurry,  that  no 
matter  how  busy  she  is,  she  can  always  seem  to 
find  time  for  something  else." 

"  It  is  clearly  up  to  me,"  said  Sonia,  her  eyes 
grave.  "I'm  the  oldest  after  Rose  and  though 
Rose's  niche  at  home  here  is  —  is  peculiarly  her 
own  and  there  isn't  one  of  us  clever  and  keen 
and  patient  enough  to  fill  its  complicated  needs 
as  cheerfully  and  efficiently  as  she  has,  still 
there's  not  a  ghost  of  a  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
Rose  must  be  liberated  and  I  am  willing  to  pay 


196  The  Lovable  Meddler 

back  something  of  what  she  has  done  for  me  by 
trying  to  fill  her  place.  I  remember  Rose  once 
told  me  that  anyone  could  learn  housekeeping, 
but  that  homekeeping  was  quite  a  different  art. 
I'm  beginning  to  see  what  she  meant.  It  takes 
temperament  and  genius  and  tact  to  color  home 
memories  with  unfailing  cheer  and  cover  the 
domestic  machinery  so  the  family  won't  hear  the 
wheels  creak.  No  house  is  a  home  without  some 
vital  womanly  personality  at  the  head  of  it.  The 
system  and  machinery  of  housekeeping  I'll  prob- 
ably analyze  in  time.  About  the  elastic 
financing  and  the  homekeeping  end,  I  feel  less 
confident." 

"  I  am  home  here  every  day,"  broke  in  June 
tremulously.  "  I  can't  see  at  all  that  it's  up  to 
you,  Sonia.  By  pruning  the  week  of  music 
pupils,  I  can  take  Rose's  place." 

"  Lord,  no,  June!  "  objected  Marcia.  "  You'd 
never  do.  You're  too  temperamental.  The 
Weston  finances  need  a  business  head.  I  can 
see  plainly  enough  that  Mother  will  have  to  get 
a  new  secretary.  That  might  come  in  time 
anyway." 

Sonia  shot  a  startled  glance  at  her  and  both 
colored  and  looked  away.  Unaware  of  a  cer- 
tain guilty  stir  among  her  sisters,  Carol  began 
to  speak. 


Chapter  Eighteen  197 

"  It's  not  merely  Rose's  feeling  of  indispens- 
ability  we  have  to  fight;  it's  her  temperament 
and  her  conscience,  her  loyalty  and  her  iron-clad 
sense  of  duty.  She  told  me  she  would  not  have 
any  of  us  making  unnecessary  sacrifices  for 
her  —  that  by  temperament  and  experience  she 
was  Mother's  logical  understudy,  that  she  had 
fully  made  up  her  mind  to  stick  by  her  to  the 
end.  Lloyd  was  rude  enough  to  say  that  not 
one  of  us  would  sacrifice  for  Rose  what  she  has 
so  willingly  sacrificed  for  us.  I  think  he's 
wrong." 

"  Love  and  marriage,"  said  Sonia  with  a 
peculiar  inflection  of  her  voice  whose  significance 
was  not  lost  upon  four  of  her  listeners.  "  That's 
what  Rose  is  giving  up.  Very  well.  If  Rose 
is  going  to  stick  so  bravely  to  Mother,  I  am 
going  to  give  up  love  and  marriage  too  and 
stick  to  Rose.  It's  only  fair." 

"  And  I,"  said  Marcia  with  white  lips,  "  I  am 
willing  to  do  that  too." 

"  And  I,"  faltered  June,  throwing  herself 
face  downward  upon  the  floor  with  a  choking 
sob. 

Brown  eyes  ablaze  with  loyalty  to  that  dear 
older  sister  whose  life  of  sacrifice  they  were  but 
imperfectly  comprehending  to-night,  the  twins 
turned  silently  and  shook  hands. 


198          The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  And  Eileen  and  I,"  said  Lucia  bravely. 
"  We'll  stick  too." 

Thus  Fate  in  the  corner  of  a  moonlit  attic 
ironically  knotted  the  threads  of  destiny  that 
led  to  the  Music  Box  and  the  Cave. 


Chapter  19 
The  Doctor's  lads 

GUID  faith!"  burst  forth  the  despairing 
Doctor,  staring  aghast  at  the  glum  faces 
of  his  lads,  "I  canna,  winna  believe  it!  'Tis 
such  a  bit  of  news  as  a  man  canna  accept  off- 
hand. Ye  canna  mean,  Jerry,  lad,  that  the 
Weston  lasses  have  sacked  the  lot  of  ye? " 

And  Jerry,  who  had  been  wildly  raking  his 
fingers  through  his  hair,  suddenly  clenched 
them  with  a  hollow  groan  and  seemed  about 
to  lift  himself  into  mid-air  by  hirsute  straps. 

"Life's  under  dog!"  he  boomed  theatrically. 
"Fate's  puffball!  Cupid's  donkey!  How  the 
Gods  must  laugh  to-night  at  Jerry,  derelict 
upon  the  storm-tossed  sea  of  Life!  Was  it  not 
the  logical  outcome  of  anything  with  which 
Jeremiah  Colson  became  affiliated?  The  break- 
fast herring,  the  missing  sock  —  do  they  not 
tell  their  own  cruel  story  of  an  ever-busy 
Nemesis  who  pursues  me  like  an  ogre?  Never 
Grant  —  never  Roger  —  never  Quin  or  that 
ass  of  a  Norman  —  Oh,  no !  Always  Jerry, 
easy  mark  for  the  imps  of  hell!  Who  is  the 

199 


200  The  Lovable  Meddler 

butt  of  Quin's  sarcasm  over  pinochle?  Jerry! 
Whose  musical  gymnastics  does  the  janitor 
dislike  most?  Jerry's!  I  may  not  even  gather 
water  fern  for  Rose  without  complete  and 
unexpected  immersion  in  a  wet  and  watery  pond. 
Jeremiah  II.  Book  of  Lamentations  Number 
Two.  Faugh!  Fate  must  have  whispered  the 
direful  name  in  my  mother's  ear.  And  every- 
body, everybody,  mark  you,  has  my  number, 
from  Roger's  office  boy  on.  Didn't  Larry  up 
and  send  me  a  postal  from  Syria  of  the  Grotto 
of  Jeremiah?  And  what  was  it?  Of  all  the 
God-forsaken,  barren,  gloomy  holes,  I've  never 
seen  its  equal.  Anything  with  that  name  must 
feel  it  in  time.  I  don't  wonder  the  original 
Jeremiah  wrote  his  Lamentations  there.  I  would 
myself  if  it  wasn't  such  a  devil  of  a  journey. 
Even  my  hair  and  my  eyes,  mark  you,  were 
made  of  the  somber  hue  of  mourning  crepe, 
Nature  draping  me  at  birth  for  the  sorrows  of 
life!  Even  in  the  Cave  Trio,  the  melancholy 
oboe  must  needs  fall  to  me,  doubtless  because  it 
wails  like  a  banshee  and  is  said  to  put  a  crimp 
in  a  man's  brain." 

Jerry  relapsed  into  gloom,  moodily  biting  his 
finger  nails,  and  the  Doctor  stared  with  circular 
eyes  and  a  paralyzing  sense  of  guilt  at  the 
crestfallen  faces  of  these  lads  who  had  come  to 


Chapter  Nineteen  201 

grief  in  the  pursuit  of  his  schemie.  For  once 
his  ready  tongue  was  mute;  a  melancholy 
silence  fell  over  the  office  until  with  a  sniff  the 
conscience-stricken  Doctor  roused. 

"  I'm  sittin'  about  here,"  he  said  bitterly, 
"  like  a  daffy  peacock  who,  havin'  just  had  his 
fantail  snapped  off  sudden  by  a  meddlesome 
cyclone,  does  not  know  where  to  go  a-lookin'  for 
the  first  feather  of  it.  "Tis  just  so  with  my 
wool-gatherin'  wits.  I'm  fair  stunned.  Where's 
Norm  anyway? " 

"  Norm,"  said  Quin,  "  is  making  a  fool  of 
himself.  He's  talked  a  lot  about  the  picturesque 
way  Larry  took  his  conge  —  as  if  Larry  himself 
ever  gave  it  a  thought!  And  so  to-night  what 
must  Norm  do  when  he  left  Lucia  but  make 
for  Gallagher's,  borrow  Rajah  and  go  galloping 
like  a  fiend  out  of  town  without  a  hat,  hair 
blowing  and  his  eyes  staring  wildly  ahead  of  him 
like  a  lunatic.  Said  he  might  shoot  himself 
and  he  might  not.  It  was  after  all  an  unpleasant 
way  of  shuffling  off  —  but  whatever  he  did 
to-night  he'd  certainly  go  explore  the  Ever- 
glades of  Florida  to-morrow,  for  there  were 
noisome  parts  there  where  a  man  couldn't  live." 

Now  like  a  devil's  tattoo  along  Auburnia 
Avenue  came  the  thud  of  hoofs  and  Norman 
himself  bolted  into  the  office,  met  the  hostile 


202          The  Lovable  Meddler 

eyes  of  Grant  and  Quin  and  bolted  out  again 
with  a  shudder,  muttering  that  even  his  friends 
had  turned  against  him  and  that  he  was  now 
about  to  precipitate  himself  into  the  Auburnia 
River  and  remain  there  in  watery  seclusion  until 
he  became  a  "  bloated  corpse." 

Staggered  by  Norman's  meteoric  visit  the 
Doctor  bounced  in  alarm  from  his  chair  and 
made  for  the  door. 

"  Let  him  go! "  advised  a  disgruntled  chorus, 
but  the  Doctor  had  no  such  inhuman  intention. 

"  I  canna  have  my  guid  henchman  scalla- 
waggin'  about  the  river  a  '  bloated  corpse '  ! " 
he  snapped.  "  The  poor  lad's  noddle  is  all 
topsy-turvy.  For  all  his  Hamfatters'  ways  and 
his  tragic  sense  of  romance,  'tis  only  a  vent  for 
the  poor  lad's  excitement.  He's  just  as  upset 
and  skedaddled  as  any  other  man  among  ye 
and  ye  just  canna  tell  what  niffy-naffy  pro- 
ceedin'  he'll  engage  in  next."  And  hatless  and 
excited,  the  Doctor  was  off,  tearing  after  the 
shadowy  coat-tails  of  his  henchman,  whose  con- 
fused sense  of  direction  was  somehow  leading 
him  away  from  the  river. 

"Merciful  patience!"  panted  the  Doctor, 
mopping  as  he  ran,  "  Norm  has  been  a  fearful 
responsibility,  a  fearful  responsibility  indeed! 
The  Brimstone  Hornie  himself  must  have 


Chapter  Nineteen  203 

pestered  me  into  enlistin'  the  daffy  lad's  aid. 
Still,  I  canna  with  decency  refuse  to  rescue  him 
for  matter  of  that,  for  in  many  ways  he  has  been 
an  uncommon  guid  henchman  and  I  owe  the 
poor  lad  something  for  the  fact  that  he  has 
been  hit  so  sorely  with  a  boomerang  of  my 
makin'." 

So  Norman  permitted  himself  to  be  rescued 
from  a  watery  grave  many  a  block  away  from 
the  river  and  while  the  Doctor  was  thus 
employed,  Grant  had  risen  from  his  chair  in  the 
office,  supremely  disgusted  with  Norman's 
pyrotechnics. 

"  Norman,"  said  he,  "  is  making  comic  opera 
of  something  that  is  of  vital  and  sacred  concern 
to  all  of  us.  I'm  going  home."  And  he  fret- 
fully departed,  followed  by  the  others. 

Outside  Rajah  standing  by  the  curb  whinnied 
plaintively  at  the  sight  of  them  and  of  one 
accord  they  halted,  Quin  offering  Jerry  the 
task  of  riding  the  horse  back  to  Gallagher's. 
But  Jerry,  who  professed  to  see  in  this  but  a 
trick  of  Fate  to  facilitate  the  predestined  break- 
ing of  his  neck,  instantly  declined  and  strode 
on  homeward,  to  sit  in  bitter  meditation  on  the 
doorstep  for  lack  of  a  forgotten  latchkey,  while 
the  disgruntled  trio  returned  the  unpopular 
romanticist's  steed  in  a  body. 


204  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Oh,  Agnes,"  groaned  the  Doctor  late  that 
night,  "  'tis  all  over  with  my  wonderful  schemie. 
My  pernicious  peck  o'  maut  has  now  become  a 
bushel!  And,  Oh,  Agnes,  my  sinful  heart  is 
just  fair  burstin'  with  remorseful  torment. 
For  I  have  not  only  upset  Larry  and  my  poor 
dear  Leddy  Rose  but  I  have  muddled  the  lives 
of  a  dozen  of  folk  all  told  just  by  my  fearful 
efficiency  in  meddlin'.  If  the  Hornie  himself 
had  told  me,  I  would  not  have  believed  the  lasses 
could  have  acted  so.  'Tis  plain  I  have  been  too 
much  of  a  meddlesome  Cupid  with  my  sinful 
and  persistent  braggin'  about  straightenin' 
things  out  for  Larry.  Agnes,  lass,  I'm  a  verra 
wicked  man  cursed  with  a  degraded  taste  for 
meddlin'  and  matchmakin'  but  I  will  not  meddle 
with  the  great  schemie  again.  Like  a  Roman 
candle  'tis  over  prone  to  periodic  explosions. 
From  now  on,  I'm  a  sawbones  and  nothing  but 
a  sawbones." 

So  the  deadlock  came  —  with  the  Doctor's 
lads  variously  veiling  an  inglorious  sense  of 
eclipse  —  with  the  Doctor's  lasses  buoyed  up 
by  an  exalted  sense  of  martyrdom  at  which 
Carol,  feeling  herself  the  cause,  stared  aghast  — 
with  Lloyd,  guiltily  reticent,  righting  a  stirring 
of  conscience  under  a  heavy  pressure  of  work. 

Now   as   Rose   had   said,   a   secret   sense   of 


Chapter  Nineteen  205 

abnormality  had  over-developed  the  clannishness 
of  the  Westons,  strongly  riveting  family  ties  of 
loyalty  and  obligation  and  concern  for  one 
another  and  making  them  immune  to  the  need 
of  outside  friends.  So  now  with  a  tribal  facility 
for  bending  their  energies  to  a  common  center, 
Rose's  awakened  sisters  paid  their  self-effacing 
tribute  to  the  sacrifice  of  Mother  Rose  as  Rose, 
in  turn,  had  paid  it  to  her  mother.  Filled  with 
remorse  at  the  memory  of  the  careless  years 
behind  them,  squarely  facing  at  last  the  singu- 
larity of  Mother  Letty's  position  in  the  home, 
there  came  to  each  one  of  them  a  deeper,  more 
sympathetic  insight  into  Rose's  rejection  of  her 
freedom. 

"  I  can  see  now,"  said  Sonia,  "  that  Rose 
could  no  more  desert  Mother  Letty  in  the  cir- 
cumstances than  we  could  desert  Mother  Rose. 
The  singularity  of  our  home  life  chains  us  all 
to  one  another  and  we  have  been  more  than 
blind  not  to  see  it  before.  Rose  with  her  clearer 
vision  saw  it  right  along.  Moreover,  I  can  see 
very  plainly  now  that  marriage  was  never 
intended  for  such  a  family  as  ours." 

Brave  and  lofty  young  martyrs!  It  was 
astonishing  the  obstacles  to  marriage  they  one 
by  one  unearthed  to  fortify  their  courage. 
There  was  Rose,  of  course,  first  of  all,  and  then 


206          The  Lovable  Meddler 

the  overshadowing  loan  with  its  constant  drain 
upon  them  all,  Marcia's  indispensability  as  her 
mother's  secretary,  Sonia's  editorial  career,  the 
congenial  home-unity  for  which  they  were  so 
noted,  Mother  Letty's  right  to  an  unbroken 
family  circle  after  the  cheerless  harness  of  years, 
June's  undomestic  temperament  and  the  utter 
inseparability  of  the  whistling  twins.  It  was  a 
black  and  hopeless  case  indeed.  Cupid,  on  trial 
for  unseemly  intrusion,  found  himself  indicted 
and  spurned  by  this  brown-eyed,  fair-haired, 
inexorable  jury  of  the  Doctor's  lasses. 

So  Rose  found  herself  relieved  of  a  task  here 
and  a  task  there  and  wondered  greatly,  uncon- 
scious of  the  stirring  of  conscience  unleashed  by 
Lloyd  and  Carol.  To  Sonia,  to  Marcia,  to 
June  with  their  offers  of  freedom,  to  the  twins 
who  had  solemnly  come  to  her  with  a  paralyzing 
plan  to  run  the  house  together,  her  answer, 
though  she  had  found  the  effort  of  facing  this 
promiscuous  knowledge  of  her  love  and  sacrifice 
a  desperate  one  indeed,  had  been  the  same, 
gentle  but  unrelenting.  So  Mother  Rose's  loyal 
sisters  bravely  betook  themselves  to  a  life  shorn 
of  camaraderie  with  the  Doctor's  lads,  shedding 
many  a  tear  in  secret;  and  Rose,  forced  to  the 
reluctant  conviction,  after  a  host  of  unsatis- 
factory interviews  with  her  sisters,  that  Larry's 


Chapter  Nineteen  207 

friends  had  gone  the  way  of  other  suitors, 
resigned  herself  to  the  loneliness  and  quiet  of 
the  house  and  asked  no  further  questions.  For 
even  as  Rose  herself  had  guarded  her  mother 
from  the  knowledge  of  her  sacrifice,  so  were 
the  others  guarding  Rose. 


Chapter  20 

Relates  something   of  a  cribbage  session  and 
considerable  gossip 

FIFTEEN  two  — fifteen  four  — fifteen 
six ! "  Colonel  Huntley  laid  aside  his  cards. 
"  Well,  Peter,  what's  all  the  delay  —  what's  all 
the  delay?  Can't  you  count?  " 

"  My  delay,"  apologized  Judge  Caperton,  "  is 
due  to  a  slight  and  somewhat  hesitant  inclina- 
tion to  sneeze." 

"  Have  just  one  of  my  fearful  stogies," 
advised  the  Doctor.  "  It  may  help  ye  out, 
Peter." 

"  Harveyized  snakeroot !  "  said  Colonel  Hunt- 
ley.  "  That's  what  started  him  off  sneezing  in 
the  first  place.  Smell  'em  myself.  Peter,  if 
you  surrender  to  your  fussy  notions  of  polite- 
ness and  take  one  of  those  infernal  weeds,  you'll 
get  hay  fever  and,  what's  more,  you'll  deserve 
it.  Ragweed  and  rubber;  nothing  else." 

"  Oh,  dinna  blether  so,  Colonel,"  put  in  the 
Doctor.  "  Ye  talk  like  a  haverel! " 

"  And  what  in  the  name  of  blue-black-blazes 
is  a  haverel?  Scotch  barbarism.  .  . 

208 


Chapter  Twenty  209 

Well,  Peter,  hustle  up  there,  hustle  up!  What's 
the  verdict? " 

"  You'll  pardon  me,  Roderick,  I'm  sure," 
said  Judge  Caperton  pushing  the  box  away, 
"  but  I  did  take  the  liberty  to-night  to  bring 
along  one  or  two  of  my  own  cigars.  They're 
no  better  than  yours  —  indeed  no !  quite  the  con- 
trary, I'm  sure  —  but  they  are  a  bit  milder." 
And  the  judge  betook  himself  again  to  his 
cards. 

Now  it  is  a  most  regrettable  fact  that  the 
colonel  and  the  judge  had  been  following  the 
progress  of  the  schemie  with  an  avid  interest 
made  possible  by  the  Doctor's  confidential  indis- 
cretions over  cards,  secretly  affording  him  that 
stimulus  of  sympathy  and  encouragement  which 
Mrs.  Glenmuir  had  deemed  it  wise  to  withhold. 
So  to-night,  with  a  warning  glance  at  the  open 
door  through  which  floated  the  half-hearted 
orchestral  effort  of  his  lads,  the  Doctor 
whispered  the  utter  collapse  of  his  schemie. 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  said  Judge  Caperton 
in  low  tones.  "  Why,  Roderick,  I  am  surprised." 

"  Most  amazing!  "  Colonel  Huntley  raised  his 
bushy,  snow-white  eyebrows.  '  What  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it,  Roderick?" 

"  I'm  stumped,"  owned  the  Doctor,  "  just  fair 
stumped.  I  canna  see  my  way  clear  and  my 


210  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Agnes,  she's  all  for  me  droppin'  the  schemie 
straightaway  forever.  To  be  perfectly  truthful, 
I  canna  see  any  other  way  myself. 
Would  ye  just  listen  to  poor  Jerry  in  there 
pipin'  away  at  the  Dead  March!  Colonel, 
would  ye  be  so  guid  as  to  close  the  door.  The 
lads  have  been  swarmin'  about  the  Hame  since 
the  Westons  sacked  'em,  tootlin'  and  musickm' 
fierce  with  my  Jeannie,  account  of  lonesomeness 
I  take  it.  I  joined  'em  once  or  twice  myself 
with  my  bagpipie  but  I  canna  say  'tis  over- 
popular  with  the  lads,  though  for  matter  of  that 
ye  canna  blame  'em.  The  bagpipie  with  all  its 
undoubted  merits  has  an  overbearin'  trick  of 
drownin'  the  rest  out  and  monopolizin'  all  the 
solo  parts  at  high  speed  because  I  dinna  like  to 
stop  once  it's  goin'  guid  for  fear  it  will  not  be 
so  easy  to  start  again.  Ye  will  probably  per- 
ceive that  such  monkeyshines  make  every  solo 
a  duet.  And  then,  plague  take  it !  when  the  lads 
all  shut  up  and  give  me  a  chance  to  display 
myself  alone,  the  daffy  thing  sulks  fearful. 
Your  deal,  Colonel." 

"  My  deal !  It's  always  my  deal.  I've  dealt 
three  times  running.  Pass  'em  to  Peter." 

Peter  mildly  protested,  the  Doctor  discarded 
the  pack  with  a  sniff  and  the  colonel  with  an 
imprecation  of  disgust  shuffled  and  dealt. 


Chapter  Twenty  211 

"  And  Larry? "  said  Judge  Caperton  with 
interest.  "  He's  coming  around,  you  say?  " 

The  Doctor  glowed. 

"  Peter,  I'm  just  so  mortal  proud  of  the  lad 
and  his  splendid  courage  that  I  must  brag  a  bit 
about  him.  'Tisn't  so  much  that  he's  comin' 
around,  I  take  it,  as  'tis  that  he's  got  a  grip  on 
himself.  Such  cheerful,  pleasant  letters  ye 
would  not  think  to  read,  with  never  a  hint  in 
'em  of  the  poor  lad's  heartsick  fancy  for  the 
dear  Leddy  Rose.  .  .  .  And  what 
must  Larry  do  with  his  thoughtful  kindliness 
of  heart  but  go  look  up  Benny's  old  home  in 
Beirut  that  Benny  had  told  him  about  —  Ben, 
the  tailor  —  and  snap-shoot  some  pictures  of  it, 
a  queerish  house  with  a  flat  roof.  And  he  snap- 
shoots a  score  of  other  places  in  Beirut  where 
Benny  had  played  as  a  bairn,  along  with  a 
picture  of  Benny's  uncle,  an  old  Syrian  with 
wrinkles  aplenty  and  a  beard  over  a  foot  long, 
neither  verra  hygienic.  All  these  pictures,  mind 
ye,  Larry  he  packs  off  to  me  to  give  to  Benny. 
And  bless  ye,  Benny  just  stops  short  pressin' 
troosers,  with  the  tears  a-streamin'  down  his 
face,  and  he  chatters  daffy-like  and  wrings  his 
hands  and  pats  me  on  the  back  —  all  the  while 
scorchin'  Peter  Stowe's  troosers  —  for  which  I 
was  not  sorry,  not  abidin'  the  man.  And  Benny 


212          The  Lovable  Meddler 

he  was  so  mortal  pleased  with  the  sight  of  home 
and  the  unsanitary  uncle  that  he  clean  forgot  to 
rag  me  about  my  troosers  as  he  will  do  if  they're 
but  a  wee  bit  baggy.  'Tis  like  Larry,  God 
bless  him.  I've  a  notion  this  grief  will  maybe 
temper  the  lad  a  bit.  Mayhap  'tis  what  he 
needs,  though  I  would  have  done  the  temperin'  a 
bit  different.  He's  a  turbulent  lad  for  all  his 
quiet  manner." 

But  the  conversation  was  becoming  far  too 
placid  for  the  colonel. 

"  And  with  the  collapse  of  the  schemie 
Rodney  is  forever  entrenched  in  the  Throne 
Chair  with  the  family  at  his  feet.  Great  pity!  " 

"  Aweel,"  snapped  the  Doctor,  "  the  situation 
is  abnormal  and  so  too  is  the  man.  I  wash  my 
meddlesome  hands  of  it." 

"  Abnormal ! "  exclaimed  the  tantalizing 
colonel.  "  Oh,  come  now,  Rod,  you  can't  exactly 
call  him  abnormal." 

"  When  a  man  is  so  mortal  full  of  I's," 
punned  the  Doctor  sarcastically,  "  would  ye  not 
say  yourself  he  was  abnormal,  a  sort  of  optical 
monster,  maybe? " 

"  Oh,  get  along  with  you ! "  grumbled  the 
colonel.  "  I'm  tired  of  your  everlasting  similes. 
A  potato,  for  instance,  is  not  an  optical  monster. 
Peter,  play  ball." 


Chapter  Twenty  213 

With  due  precision  Peter  played  ball  while 
his  cronies  bickered  about  similes,  potatoes, 
optical  monsters  and  Rodney. 

"  Let  us  hope,"  ventured  the  judge,  inter- 
posing a  wedge  of  tact,  "  that  the  unfortunate 
man  will  presently  awaken  to  a  sense  of  his 
responsibilities.  Surely  he  must  be  aware  that 
his  present  form  of  life  bears  —  er  —  blemishes." 

"  Blemishes !  Bless  your  conservative  heart, 
Peter,  ye  put  it  mildly.  The  man  has  a  freckled 
soul.  Ye  mind,  Peter,  how  any  woman  with 
disfigurin'  freckles  will  always  tell  ye  'tis  only 
the  verra  finest  skin  that  freckles?  'Tis  just 
so  with  that  gowk  of  a  Rodney !  He  knows  well 
enough  that  his  soul  is  specked  thick  with 
freckles  but  he  concludes  that  they  have  come 
upon  it  on  account  of  a  hyper-exquisite  soul 
fiber.  Anyway  I've  a  notion  the  man  looks  at 
himself  through  smoked  glasses  for  fear  he  will 
dazzle  himself  with  such  uncommon  brightness 
and  splendor.  Colonel,  dinna  stir  me  up  again. 
Ye  have  a  fearful  habit  of  amusin'  yourself  with 
such  crafty  tricks." 

"  Most  amazing  proceeding,"  remarked  the 
colonel  after  a  quiet  hand  or  so,  "  for  Ben 
Raegner  to  up  and  die  after  the  primaries  with 
his  name  on  the  ticket  and  the  politics  of  the 
town  in  such  a  beastly  muddle.  Roderick, 


214  The  Lovable  Meddler 

coming  up  here  to-night,  I  met  Driscoll.  He 
says  you're  the  only  man  in  Auburnia  to  fill  the 
place,  that  you'd  make  a  bully  mayor.  Says 
he's  going  to  head  a  petition  to  the  election 
board  to  run  you  in  on  the  ticket." 

"Mayor!  God  bless  my  soul!"  snapped  the 
Doctor.  "  I  have  no  time  for  fancy  work." 

"  Fancy  work!  "  The  colonel  stared.  "  Well 
I'll  be  hanged!" 

"  There's  not  a  man  in  Auburnia  can  keep 
the  Democrats  out  of  office  this  fall,"  pointed 
out  the  Doctor,  "  and  the  Republican  candidate 
for  mayor  is  but  a  figurehead  to  give  a  con- 
vincin'  air  to  the  ticket.  I  would  fill  the 
vacancy  with  a  guid  undertaker  to  help  bury 
the  party  hope.  Myself  I  have  no  time  to  assist 
with  the  buryin'." 

"  Well,  well,  Roderick,"  said  the  judge  with 
a  twinkle,  "  you  are  a  pessimist.  But  he's  right, 
Colonel,  no  gainsaying  that." 

The  Doctor  sniffed. 

"  Aweel,"  said  he,  "  pessimist  I  may  be,  doubt- 
less, but  I  dinna  mind.  There  are  no  pleasant 
surprises  in  life  for  the  optimist.  For  the 
pessimist,  things  always  turn  out  a  lot  better 
than  he  expects." 

"  Well,  now,  Roderick,"  urged  the  colonel 
expectantly,  "  since  you  haven't  any  time  for 


Chapter  Twenty  215 

political  fancy  work,  there's  your  friend  Rodney ! 
He'd  make  an  uncommonly  good  substitute. 
Presence,  dignity,  magnetism,  he  lacks  none  of 
the  qualifications  for  an  imposing  dignitary. 
Moreover,  your  friendly  influence  would  insure 
his  victory." 

'The  verra  thing!"  broke  in  the  Doctor 
elaborately.  "  The  verra  thing!  'Tis  a  brilliant 
whig-ma-leerie  for  a  sane  man  to  have  in  his 
noddle.  Colonel,  the  suggestion  is  a  credit  to 
your  political  instinct.  And  my!  my!  my!  what 
a  bonny  figure  he  would  make,  to  be  sure, 
leadin'  the  city  parade  on  old  Molly's  back  and 
paintin'  little  artistic  jim-cricks  on  his  pasters. 
I  am  filled  with  mortal  pangs  of  envy.  And 
Letty  would  supply  him  with  abundant  cam- 
paign money  and  Benny  would  have  to  make 
him  a  picturesque  electioneerin'  suit  and  the 
Leddy  Rose  would  attend  to  his  tortured  nerves 
and  write  his  speeches  —  and  I  would  doubtless 
put  poison  in  his  nerve  medicine  and  turn 
Democrat! " 

He  was  silent  for  some  time. 

"Hum!  Since  the  man  just  could  not  win 
with  the  Republicans  in  such  bad  favor,  'tis  not 
such  a  whig-ma-doodle  notion  after  all  as  I 
fancied  at  first."  The  Doctor  laid  down  his 
cards  in  excitement.  "  D'ye  know  what  would 


216          The  Lovable  Meddler 

please  me?"  he  demanded  fiercely.  "I  would 
give  much  to  see  man  Rodney  upon  the  ticket 
to  be  humbled  in  guid  time  by  a  scorchin', 
blisterin'  defeat.  I  would  give  more  to  have 
Reddy  Gunnigan  with  his  mud-slingin',  slander- 
ous Democrat  pen,  tellin'  what  the  Republican 
candidate  is,  how  the  selfish  gowk  is  nothing 
but  a  parasite  livin'  upon  the  bounty  of  his 
womenfolk  and  all  puffed  up  with  his  own  con- 
ceit and  ruinin'  lives  offhand  with  the  splendid 
indifference  of  an  emperor.  Folks,  I  take  it, 
dinna  fuss  much  over  domestic  offenders  unless 
there  is  something  spectacular  to  wake  'em  up. 
And  such  a  bitin'  editorial  about  King  Rodney 
as  Reddy  writes  when  he's  delvin'  in  that  nasty 
way  of  his  into  the  private  life  of  political 
opponents,  would  stir  the  whole  town  up. 

"  O  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us! 
It  wad  frae  monie  a  blunder  free  us, 

An  foolish  notion: 

What  airs  in  dress  an'  gait  wad  lea'e  us, 
An'  ev'n  devotion! 

"  Let  Rodney  once  know  that  the  scathin' 
eyes  of  the  town  are  full  upon  the  canker  in 
his  home  and  mayhap  he  would  lose  a  bit  of  his 


Chapter  Twenty  217 

monumental  self-assurance  and  emancipate  the 
loyal  slaves  of  his  household." 

They  were  careless  words,  hotly  colored  with 
the  unhappy  events  of  the  schemie  and,  like 
many  another  plan  for  Rodney's  downfall, 
spoken  with  absolutely  no  thought  of  fulfillment. 
But  they  fell  fatefully  this  time  upon  wild  and 
fertile  soil,  in  the  course  of  time  to  flower  forth 
abundantly. 

For  beyond  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Hame, 
O'Hagan  had  come  a-visiting,  maliciously  aware 
that  his  popularity  with  Jamie  was  a  galling 
thorn  to  Flora.  To  considerable  imprudent 
advice  upon  the  making  of  coffee,  O'Hagan, 
nothing  daunted  by  a  sniff  or  so,  had  presently 
added  the  well-intentioned  effrontery  of  seizing 
a  tray  and  while  Jamie  was  eyeing  him  in  alarm 
and  Flora  serving  the  hungry  orchestra,  the 
irresponsible  Irishman  departed  for  the  cribbage 
room  with  the  Doctor's  coffee,  delighted  with 
his  furtive  opportunity  of  serving  the  benefactor 
who  had  installed  him  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
Music  Box. 

That  he  halted  outside  the  door  without 
entering  was  due  to  the  fierce  indignation  of  the 
Doctor's  voice  booming  forth  Rodneyan  abuse 
to  his  cronies;  that  he  lingered  and  listened  and 
eventually  retreated  —  to  surrender  the  unde- 


218  The  Lovable  Meddler 

livered  tray  to  the  quaking  Jamie  —  was  due  to 
curiosity  and  the  sound  of  Flora's  approaching 
footsteps. 


Chapter  21 

In  which  the  reader  finds  himself  in  a  doubtful 
place  and  doubtful  company  but  must  bear 
with  the  indignity  for  purposes  of  the  narra- 
tive. The  chapter  ends  more  reputably 

O'HAGAN  departed,  after  a  tormenting 
shaft  or  so  at  Flora,  rehearsing  with  inter- 
est the  Doctor's  tirade.  Curiosity  and  excellent 
ears  had  made  him  master  of  much  in  the  Music 
Box  and  O'Hagan  was  loyal.  Small  wonder 
then  that  he  endorsed  the  Doctor's  fire-eating. 
Moreover  it  pointed  a  way  to  repay  the  Doc- 
tor's favors  by  serving  the  Doctor's  whim, 
stirring  O'Hagan's  resourceful  brain  into  dar- 
ing inspiration. 

So  O'Hagan  went  striding  away  through  the 
maze  of  streets  toward  the  river,  irresponsibly 
committed  to  a  schemie  of  his  own  whose  initial 
fulfillment  led  him  to  the  family  entrance  of 
Karl  Schafer's  saloon. 

It  was  essentially  German  in  its  respectability, 
this  comfortable  back  room  of  Karl  Schafer's, 
a  place  where  Germans  met  and  drank  and 
smoked  over  endless  hands  of  pinochle;  where 

219 


220          The  Lovable  Meddler 

Frau  Schafer  nightly  clicked  her  knitting 
needles  and  drowsed  in  comfortable  conscious- 
ness of  the  goodly  repute  Karl  maintained  here 
at  the  occasional  expense  of  his  temper;  and 
where  in  a  secluded  corner  the  great  Michael 
Morough  drank  his  beer  from  a  private  stein 
and  puzzled  disgustedly  over  the  German  mot- 
toes on  the  smoke- darkened  walls,  received 
peculiar  guests  by  appointment  and  inconspic- 
uously held  a  sort  of  court  which  settled  the 
political  destinies  of  Republican  Auburnia. 

Now  Michael  Morough  himself  was  not  glob- 
ular of  waist  line  like  the  conventional  boss  of 
the  cartoonist;  neither  did  he  wear  megaphonic 
plaids  to  impress  his  satellites.  He  was  rather 
the  ultra-respectable  director  of  a  vast  political 
orchestra  which  variously  brayed  or  boomed 
as  he  nodded,  made  all  his  noise  for  him  and 
paid  him  for  the  privilege.  Thin,  sardonic  of 
face  and  humor,  he  was  long  of  memory  for 
favors  or  abuse. 

It  was  this  final  characteristic  upon  which 
O'Hagan  was  banking  as  he  seated  himself  at 
the  boss's  table  after  a  greeting  considerably 
more  cordial  than  Mr.  Morough  usually  per- 
mitted himself  with  the  casual  seeker. 

"  Have  a  drink,"  began  Morough. 

O'Hagan  accepted. 


Chapter  Twenty-One  221 

"  Ye  mind,  Morough,"  said  he  after  a  self- 
conscious  prelude  of  pleasantries,  "  how  ye  did 
be  peerin'  into  my  kitchen  when  I  was  chef  for 
Ganlon  this  twenty  year  back,  a  pinched, 
despairin'  hulk  of  a  lad  wid  wild  eyes  and  the 
two  feet  of  ye  bare  on  the  frozen  snow? " 

Morough  nodded. 

"  I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it !  Lord,  how  the 
wind  blew ! " 

"  And  how  ye  swore  I  saved  your  life  by 
fillin'  ye  up  then  and  there  wid  soup?" 

Morough's  eyes  were  friendly. 

"  Well,"  said  he  shrewdly,  "  what  am  I  to 
do  to-night  to  pay  for  the  soup?" 

O'Hagan's  jaw  dropped  in  consternation. 

"  Ye've  a  habit  of  comin'  straight  to  the  point, 
Morough!  "  he  stammered,  annoyed. 

But  there  was  no  side-stepping  now. 
O'Hagan  desperately  took  the  plunge.  Mor- 
ough heard  him  to  the  end  in  some  pardonable 
astonishment. 

"  Man,"  he  said,  "  you're  mad !  It  can't  be 
done,  of  course.  I'm  sorry  —  " 

"But  Raegner  himself  was  weak  I  " 

'  To  be  sure,  but  he  had  powerful  Democratic 

friends  and  we  were  counting  on  him  to  split 

the  vote.    There  was  at  least  a  fighting  chance. 

Now  this  man  you  mention.     What's  he  ever 


222  The  Lovable  Meddler 

done?  I  know  of  him,  of  course;  he's  strong 
on  looks '  and  big  talk,  but  he's  not  the  man  to 
help  the  party." 

"  Have  ye  personally  picked  Raegner's  suc- 
cessor, then? " 

"  No-o-o-o,"  admitted  the  man  who  would 
ultimately  name  that  accidental  dignitary  to 
the  election  board,  and  his  face  grew  non- 
committal, "  not  exactly.  Raegner's  death  was 
so  infernally  unexpected  that  I'm  all  at  sea. 
I'm  sorry,  O'Hagan.  I've  often  thought  of 
that  pot  of  soup  and  there's  been  none  like  it 
since;  but  I  can't  compromise  myself  by  picking 
a  dead  one." 

"  'Tis  a  big  thing  I'm  askin',"  owned 
O'Hagan,  "  to  pick  the  candidate  for  mayor  for 
a  pot  of  soup  but  —  "  he  leaned  forward  and 
played  his  final  card  in  an  excited  whisper, 
breathing  a  magic  name  and  a  no  less  magic 
insinuation. 

"  In  God's  name,  man,"  exclaimed  Morough, 
"  why  didn't  you  hint  something  of  that  before? 
It  puts  a  far  different  face  upon  the  matter. 
If  you  can  swing  Dr.  Glenmuir's  influence  —  " 

"  Are  not  the  two  families  of  them  intimate 
friends,  a-visitin'  back  and  forth?"  evaded 
O'Hagan  fluently.  "  Did  I  not  hear  him  say 
wid  me  own  two  ears  to-night  that  it  would 


Chapter  Twenty-One  223 

please  him  more  than  he  could  tell  to  see  the 
man  on  the  ticket?  Would  I  be  here  other- 
wise, claimin'  payment  for  the  pot  of  soup,  only 
that  it  will  please  him  who  doctored  me  free 
and  set  me  on  me  two  feet  a  while  back? " 

"  Another  pot  of  soup!  "  said  Morough  dryly. 
"  We've  a  chain  of  them.  Dr.  Glenmuir  is  the 
one  man  in  Auburnia  with  sufficient  personal 
influence  to  lead  the  Republicans  to  victory 
this  fall  —  the  one  man,  I  say,  in  this  God- 
forsaken mess  of  political  blunders  who  could 
stampede  the  city  into  enthusiasm." 

And  Morough  instanced  the  Doctor's  secret 
work  in  Cleton,  Auburnia's  squalid  settlement 
across  the  river,  where  clad  in  a  baggy  home- 
spun, reserved  for  this  occasion  and  never 
pressed,  he  weekly  made  a  round  of  charitable 
calls  behind  old  Peggy. 

"  If  Dr.  Glenmuir  would  consent  personally 
to  head  the  ticket  he'd  sweep  the  town  like 
wildfire  and  get  the  solid  Cleton  vote  though 
it's  Democratic." 

"  He'll  not  be  takin'  the  opportunity,"  vouched 
O'Hagan. 

"I'm  well  aware  of  it.  Just  before  you  came 
I  phoned  him  at  DriscolTs  suggestion;  for  plain 
talk,  by  the  way,  give  me  a  Scotchman  every 
time.  He  refused  flatly  to  name  anyone  in 


224          The  Lovable  Meddler 

whom  he  would  feel  the  slightest  political  inter- 
est. All  of  which,  as  you  can  see  for  yourself, 
makes  your  information  a  tip  from  the  inside. 
What  is  it,  Adolph?  .  .  .  Telephone? 
.  .  .  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

Returning  he  stared  frowningly  across  the 
table. 

"  O'Hagan,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  quite  see  your 
game,  hanged  if  I  do,  but  things  are  swinging 
your  way.  Raegner's  Democrat  friends  have 
just  deserted.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  now  that 
we  hoped  they'd  stick  if  we  offered  them  the 
selection  of  Raegner's  successor  but  they  regard 
his  death  as  unconditional  release  and  have  gone 
straight  Democratic,  pledging  their  support  to 
Horton.  All  of  which  means  that  we're  badly 
stung  unless  your  man  can  come  solidly  to  the 
front  with  Glenmuir's  influence  behind  him  and 
do  all  that  you  claim  for  him." 

"  You  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I'm  going  to  give  your  man 
a  chance.  By  himself  I  think  he's  worthless 
but  even  at  that  we're  not  taking  much  of  a 
risk  now.  We  may  lose  with  him.  We  cer- 
tainly lose  without  him  with  Hogan's  gang 
seceding  in  a  bunch.  However,  you  want  him, 
Dr.  Glenmuir's  strong,  and  you're  the  first  man 
in  my  experience  who  ever  waited  twenty  years 


Chapter  Twenty-One  225 

to  collect  a  debt.  .  .  .  Well,  here's  to  the 
new  mayor !  " 

O'Hagan  drank,  dazed  by  the  unexpected 
turn  of  the  political  wheel.  And  craftily  pledg- 
ing Morough  to  secrecy,  he  departed,  an  incog- 
nito gear-wheel  in  the  boss-ridden  machine  of 
Auburnian  politics. 

So  by  a  freak  of  political  destiny,  a  pot  of 
soup  and  a  daring  insinuation  which  he  could 
not  back,  O'Hagan  repaid  a  debt  of  gratitude 
and  irresponsibly  fired  the  fuse  to  a  startling 
train  of  events,  political  and  otherwise. 

And  by  an  open  fire  in  his  wife's  room,  for 
the  autumn  nights  were  growing  chill,  merci- 
fully unaware  of  this  new  act  he  had  all  unwit- 
tingly "  loosed  upon  the  world,"  the  Doctor 
was  mildly  adjusting  his  reading  glasses  and 
beaming  at  his  wife,  his  ranting  forgotten  in 
this  quiet  hour  by  the  wood-fire.  For  to-night 
was  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  birthday  and  for  years 
now  there  had  been  a  favorite  poem  which  Doc- 
tor Rod  needs  must  read  to  his  wife  on  her 
birthday  night. 

So  —  surely  not  the  same  Doctor  who  had 
sarcastically  held  forth  upon  the  subject  of 
King  Rodney  with  flashing  eyes  and  biting 
tongue !  —  he  presently  began  to  read,  his  face 
aglow  with  feeling. 


226  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ee  John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 
When  we  were  first  acquent, 
Your  locks  were  like  the  raven, 
Your  bonny  brow  was  brent; 
But  now  your  brow  is  beld,  John, 
Your  locks  are  like  the  snaw, 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 
John  Anderson  my  jo. 

"John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 
We  clamb  the  hill  thegither, 
And  monie  a  cantie  day,  John, 
We've  had  wi'  one  anither; 
Now  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 
And  hand  in  hand  we'll  go, 
And  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot, 
John  Anderson  my  jo!" 

The  Doctor  wiped  his  glasses. 

"  Ah,  Agnes,"  he  said,  "  ye  were  a  bonny 
lass!" 

Readily  alternate  indeed,  the  Glenmuir 
temper ! 


Chapter  22 

In  which  the  cribbage  trio  with  excellent  reason 
goes  into  highly  scandalized  session  and  the 
Doctor  gloomily  triumphs  over  a  terrible 
temptation 

IT  was  very  simple.  A  word  here  and  a  word 
there,  a  purring  note  from  the  political 
orchestra  as  the  great  director  nodded;  a  sleek, 
frock-coated  delegation  who  ostensibly  repre- 
sented the  political  preference  of  Republican 
Auburnia  and  came  in  reality  from  Michael 
Morough,  and  Rodney,  to  his  gratified  amaze- 
ment, was  launched  into  the  whirlpool  of  local 
politics. 

When  the  election  board,  instructed  by  Mor- 
ough, made  the  appointment  and  the  newspapers 
blazed  with  the  name  of  Raegner's  successor, 
Auburnia  read  and  gasped. 

As  for  the  startled  cribbage  trio,  it  went  into 
immediate  session  disclaiming  all  culpability  in 
the  matter  of  Rodney's  selection. 

"  I  am  surprised!  "  said  Judge  Caperton.  "  I 
am  indeed.  And  I  did  find  it  somewhat  diffi- 
cult, Roderick,  to  believe  that  you  would  embark 

227 


228          The  Lovable  Meddler 

upon  such  a  spectacular  performance  as  you 
suggested  the  other  evening,  but,  dear  me,  it  — 
it's  altogether  a  most  mysterious  coincidence. 
Most  mysterious !  " 

"Amazing!  "  said  the  colonel.  "  Most  amaz- 
ing! I  can't  believe  it." 

"  Amazing? "  The  Doctor  mopped  his  fore- 
head in  despair.  "  Man  alive,  'tis  so  mortal 
weird  I'm  afraid  to  think  about  it.  And  so 
prompt  on  the  heels  of  my  bletherin'  about  it! 
If  my  thought  waves  are  becomin'  so  fearful 
strong  that  I  canna  gab  a  bit  without  manip- 
ulatin'  things  unconsciously  with  telepathic 
suggestion,  why  I  just  winna  dare  think  any 
more.  That's  all  there  is  about  it!  Maybe  I'll 
presently  be  creatin'  telepathic  panics  with  my 
notions  on  the  tariff  and  the  currency  system. 
There's  no  man  in  Auburnia  so  mortal  prone  to 
gettin'  in  pickles  as  myself.  Ye  just  canna  con- 
ceive, lads,  what  a  start  it  gave  me  after  our 
talk  of  the  other  night,  to  find  man  Rodney  on 
the  ticket.  And  the  two  of  ye  heard  me  tell 
Morough  I  would  not  dabble  with  his  dirty 
politics  no  matter  what  he  might  say." 

But  no  amount  of  head-wagging  over  crib- 
bage  solved  the  mystery  and  before  long  the 
Doctor  and  his  cronies  had  a  shock  before  which 
Rodney's  candidacy  paled  into  insignificance. 


Chapter  Twenty-Two  229 

Reddy  Gunnigan  threw  his  editorial  hat  into 
the  ring  with  a  Gunniganesque  blare  of  trumpets 
and  type  and  told  Auburnia  just  what  he 
thought  about  the  Republican  candidate  for 
mayor.  It  was  forcible,  it  was  abusive,  it  was 
offensively  personal,  such  a  ranting  editorial 
in  short  as  Auburnia  had  come  to  expect  from 
Reddy  Gunnigan  who,  backed  by  the  liquor 
interests  of  the  county,  was  yearly  upon  the 
grand  jury  list  for  libel,  each  time  to  be 
acquitted  after  farcical  investigation. 

But  in  many  ways  this  vicious  attack  upon 
King  Rodney  was  his  masterpiece.  It  bared 
vividly  the  parasitic  home-life  of  Raegner's  suc- 
cessor, his  insularity,  his  selfishness,  his  egotism; 
all  in  an  ingenious  commingling  of  insinuation 
and  stated  fact  through  which  one  glimpsed 
a  brutally  accurate  picture  of  the  peculiar  sit- 
uation at  the  Weston  home. 

By  those  most  intimately  involved  it  was 
variously  received.  Michael  Morough  opened 
his  paper  and  reached  for  the  telephone,  demand- 
ing of  O'Hagan  many  unanswerable  things. 
Why,  for  instance,  he  personally  had  not  been 
appraised  of  the  hidden  gap  in  his  candidate's 
armor  through  which  Gunnigan  had  thrust  ?  To 
which  O'Hagan,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  made 
singular  answer,  curtailing  a  sentence  amidship 


230  The  Lovable  Meddler 

in  ingenious  imitation  of  a  severed  phone  con- 
nection and  thereafter  ignoring  the  insistent 
ringing  of  the  operator,  who  was  seeking  to 
placate  Morough. 

At  the  Weston  home,  Rose  read  the  Gunni- 
gan  editorial  with  burning  face  and  anger  in 
her  eyes  and  slipped  away  to  the  kitchen  under 
the  watchful  gaze  of  Lisbeth,  to  burn  it, 
unaware  that  the  one  person  in  the  house  who 
hated  Rodney  had  read  and  bought  a  copy  of 
her  own.  What  mattered  it  if  Rose  herself  was 
aquiver  with  shame  at  the  pitying  allusion  to 
herself  and  Mother  Letty?  Here  at  least  was 
something  from  which  Father  Weston  must  be 
shielded. 

At  the  Hame  o'  Roses,  where  the  Doctor 
read  with  bulging  eyes,  vigorously  wiped  his 
reading  glasses  and  read  again,  to  sit  in  petri- 
fied silence  at  the  end,  the  telephone  wires  began 
to  hum.  Obviously,  in  the  light  of  this  sec- 
ond coincidental  thunderclap,  there  had  been 
imprudent  leakage  somewhere! 

He  found  the  colonel  at  home,  fully  aware 
of  Gunnigan's  new  revelation  of  depravity  and 
explosively  positive  of  his  own  innocence.  And 
the  colonel  said  with  a  sputter  of  excitement 
that  Peter  was  at  that  minute  hurrying  up  the 
walk  at  an  amazing  rate  of  progress  for  him,  a 


Chapter  Twenty-Two  231 

paper  in  his  hand  —  could  see  him  through  the 
window ! 

"  Get  him  on  the  wire!  "  snapped  the  Doctor. 
"  I  would  talk  with  the  two  of  ye." 

"  Peter,"  roared  the  colonel,  flinging  up  a 
window,  "  hurry  up  and  use  Bob's  private  wire 
in  his  own  room,  so  the  three  of  us  can  talk. 
Annie  will  let  you  in.  Roderick's  on  the  phone 
and  blue-black-blazes,  he  is  in  a  state!  " 

So  the  cribbage  trio  bickered  by  telephone 
without  clarifying  the  mystery  in  the  least, 
sometimes  talking  singly  or  in  twos  and  some- 
times all  at  once. 

"  Now,  now,  now,  Roderick,"  broke  in  Judge 
Caperton  once,  "  I  protest,  I  really  do.  My 
court  training  has  disciplined  me  to  a  habit  of 
silence  and  I'm  not  prone  to  such  indiscretions, 
as  you  know." 

"  He's  right,  Roderick.  He's  amazingly 
close-mouthed.  I  am  myself.  Now  you  — 

'  Why,"  intervened  the  judge  hastily  from 
Bob's  room,  interposing  his  inevitable  wedge  of 
tact,  "  I  actually  started  so  when  I  read  Mr. 
Gunnigan's  effusion  that  my  glasses  simply 
popped  off  my  nose.  Chipped  considerably  too. 
And,  dear  me!  I  fear  I  made  an  exhibition  of 
myself  bolting  up  here  to  Bob's  house  to  see  if 
he'd  read  it." 


232  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Then  the  colonel  from  the  library: 

"  It's  merely  a  most  amazing  coincidence, 
Roderick.  Take  my  word  for  it." 

And  from  the  Hame  o'  Roses : 
;  'Tis  altogether  too  weird  and  uncanny  for 
a  coincidence,  man,  but  I  canna  help  seein'  now 
that  neither  of  ye  have  been  gabbin'  about  loose 
as  I  feared.  Canna  ye  drop  in  to-night,  the 
two  of  ye?  We  must  talk  this  thing  over  or 
I  winna  sleep." 

And  as  the  alarmed  cribbager  whose  ranting 
had  been  so  peculiarly  prophetic,  rang  off,  he 
stared  again  at  the  news  sheet. 

"  I  dinna  think,"  he  mused,  "  that  I  have 
ever  read  a  more  perfectly  truthful  thing,  for 
all  its  nasty,  insultin'  way  of  puttin'.  Doubt- 
less the  dear  Leddy  Rose  will  burn  the  paper; 
I  know  the  lass's  ways.  .  .  .  Hum.  .  .  . 
'Twould  be  a  pity  if  she  did,  a  great  pity,  for  I 
would  not  have  Rodney  miss  the  readin'  of  that 
for  anything.  And  yet.  .  .  .  Hum.  .  .  . 
Letty  and  the  lasses  will  of  course  guard  him 
from  the  thing  as  if  'twas  smallpox.  .  .  . 
There's  no  use  beatin'  about  the  bush.  I  must 
see  that  the  conceited  gowk  gets  a  glimpsie 
of  it!" 

The  Doctor  marked  the  article,  enclosed  the 
paper  in  a  mailing  wrapper  and  with  absolutely 


Chapter  Twenty-Two  233 

no  attempt  to  disguise  his  handwriting,  boldly 
directed  it  to  Rodney  Larimore  Weston. 

"  Roderick  Glenmuir,"  he  said,  "  few  would 
guess  that  your  old  mother  and  your  preachin' 
father  were  pious,  respectable  folk  who  did  not 
hobnob  with  the  Hornie.  I  have  scant  use  for 
ye,  as  I  tell  ye  frequent,  for  ye  have  a  depraved 
and  pryin'  nature  and  would  doubtless  be  in 
jail  but  for  the  heroic  efforts  of  your  leddy  to 
keep  ye  from  it.  And  have  ye  not  promised  the 
dear  Leddy  Agnes  but  a  week  back  that  ye 
would  drop  your  meddlesome  ways  for  guid  and 
all  and  be  nothing  but  an  elderly  sawbones  with 
a  bit  of  dignity  and  a  fairish  crease  in  your 
troosers?  And  have  ye  not  always  abhorred 
the  sneakin'  man  who  would  mail  such  a  thing 
as  that?"  And  with  a  snort  the  Doctor  tore 
the  paper  into  shreds. 

"  For  once,  Roderick  Glenmuir,"  he  added 
gloomily,  "  ye  have  conquered  your  sinful 
impulses  —  but  'twas  a  verra  great  temptation ! 
And  now  I  must  buy  another  paper  so  Jeannie 
and  the  Leddy  Glenmuir  can  read  about  the 
King."  But  had  the  Doctor  known  that  the 
newsboy  he  presently  hailed  from  the  window 
had  sold  an  extra  paper  to  O'Hagan  and 
O'Hagan  had  mailed  it  to  the  King;  had  he 
known  that  Lisbeth,  awaiting  an  opportunity 


234  The  Lovable  Meddler 

when  Rose  was  busy,  had  taken  the  evening 
papers  into  the  studio  with  her  own  copy  of  the 
Auburnia  Journal  uppermost,  he  would  have 
felt  distinctly  better. 

So  in  spite  of  Rose's  determination  to  sup- 
press the  item,  it  came  at  last  to  the  handsome 
eyes  of  Rodney  to  be  read  by  him  with  unex- 
pected tolerance  and  understanding.  After  all 
Rodney  rarely  did  wrhat  his  family  expected. 

"  Letty,  my  dear,"  he  confided  to  his  wife 
that  evening,  "  I  really  do  think  you  are  trou- 
bling yourself  too  much  about  this  puerile  bit 
of  yellow  journalism.  A  man  in  the  public  eye 
such  as  myself  must  expect  this  sort  of  thing. 
It  is  inevitable.  Savonarola,  Martin  Luther  — 
were  they  not  reviled  in  much  the  same  manner? 
Why,  Martin  Luther,  my  dear,  had  his  wrritings 
publicly  burned.  Imagine  that!  And  moreover 
the  public  was  constantly  prying  into  his  private 
life  because  he  had  married  a  nun.  And  there 
are  lots  of  similar  cases.  As  for  the  man's 
ridiculous  aspersions  upon  my  art,  I  really  do 
not  think  it  is  fair  to  expect  such  an  arrant 
Philistine  as  Gunnigan  to  have  any  nice  under- 
standing of  art  and  genius  and  the  exemptions 
to  which  they  are  surely  entitled." 

Martin  Luther  and  Savonarola!  How  the 
Doctor  would  have  snorted.  But  Rodney, 


Chapter  Twenty-Two  235 

blinded  to  the  brutal  truth  of  the  attack  by  the 
glamor  of  a  distinguished  martyrdom,  likened 
himself  to  many  another  great  victim  of  popular 
abuse  and  slept  soundly  that  night  as  surely  a 
man  with  a  clear  conscience  should,  while  Mother 
Rose  lay  white  and  wakeful  until  the  opaline 
flush  of  the  dawn  beyond  her  window  brought 
memories  so  vivid  that  the  girl  turned  her  face 
away  from  the  east  with  a  sob.  And  Mrs.  Wes- 
ton,  shaking  with  a  nervous  chill,  listened  to 
the  regular  breathing  of  her  husband  and 
thanked  Heaven  for  his  conspicuous  common 
sense. 


Chapter  23 
The  test  of  Bob's  philosophy  and  its  result 

SO  much  for  those  most  vitally  concerned  in 
the  travesty  of  Rodney's  political  notoriety. 
At  exactly  five  forty-five  of  this  eventful  twi- 
light, Dame  Fate  majestically  stepped  into  the 
ring  with  a  silken  strand  of  destiny  all  ready 
for  interweaving  and  decreed  that  the  most 
spectacular  results  of  Reddy's  slanderous  arti- 
cle should  come  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

To  Bob  Huntley  smoking  in  his  office  after 
the  rush  of  the  day,  the  emissary  of  Destiny 
came  in  the  person  of  one  Ned  Curtis,  a  clever 
young  friend  of  Bob's  who  reported  the  sporting 
events  with  slangy  pen,  worshipped  Bob  and 
shuffleboard,  and  persistently  stirred  up  a  con- 
servative family  circle  by  tardy  arrivals  to 
dinner. 

"Hello,  Bob,"  he  hailed  his  chief  from  the 
doorway.  "Looked  over  the  Journal  yet?" 

"  No,"  said  Bob.  "  What  particular  brand  of 
bandit  am  I  to-night?  Or  am  I  merely  a  gentle 
idiot  with  more  ballast  than  brains? " 

"  You're  shamefully  neglected !     No  mention 

236 


Chapter  Twenty-Three          237 

of  you  anywhere.  Reddy  sputters  all  over  the 
sheet  to-night  about  the  Westons.  Read  it. 
Great  Scott,  it's  a  hummer !  "  He  entered  and 
proceeded  to  unfold  a  paper.  Bob  captured  it 
and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Don't  bother  to  sit  down,  Ned,"  said  he. 
"  I  distinctly  promised  your  mother  that  you 
wouldn't  hang  around  here  and  gossip  with  me 
after  the  rest  of  the  bunch  have  gone.  If  you 
must  play  shuffleboard  before  dinner,  go  early 
and  get  it  off  your  mind." 

Ned  departed,  obviously  disappointed.  Left 
to  himself  Bob  carelessly  opened  the  sheet  of 
his  rival  and  began  to  read  Mr.  Gunnigan's 
frank  opinion  of  various  things  that  were  none 
of  his  business. 

So  long  as  Gunnigan  confined  himself  to 
offensive  dissertation  upon  Rodney,  his  art  and 
his  politics,  Bob,  inured  to  his  rival's  irregular 
notions  of  journalism,  merely  shrugged,  but  at 
the  first  allusion  to  Mrs.  Weston  he  removed 
his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  turned  fully 
around  to  the  light  to  make  quite  sure  he  had 
not  mistaken  the  portent. 

There  was  worse  to  follow  —  a  veiled  allusion 
to  Larry  and  his  exile  —  to  that  bevy  of  fair- 
haired,  brown-eyed  daughters  who  helped  make 
King  Rodney's  home  a  palace  of  cheer  he  did 


238  The  Lovable  Meddler 

not  deserve  —  to  Rose  and  her  selfless  servitude 
to  the  whims  of  her  father. 

As  he  read,  the  tolerance  with  which  Bob  was 
accustomed  to  read  Reddy's  malicious  effusions 
about  himself  collapsed  for  all  time.  For  the 
first  time  now  he  saw  his  rival  not  as  a  harmless 
exponent  of  ridiculous  journalism,  whose  shafts 
had  splintered  upon  the  armor  of  his  own  phil- 
osophy, but  as  a  contemptible  coward  who  had 
made  political  capital  of  the  sacred  intimacies 
of  life,  riding  roughshod  over  the  innocent  to 
spectacularize  the  guilty;  who  had  dragged  into 
the  limelight  of  press-publicity  people  to  whom 
Bob  himself  was  intensely  loyal:  Mother  Rose, 
that  gentle,  cherished  friend  and  schoolmate 
to  whom  as  the  beautiful  tapestry  of  the  girl's 
winsome  womanhood  had  unrolled  itself  before 
him  he  had  given  a  wondering  sort  of  reverence 
and  awe;  Larry,  first  and  finest  of  those  friends 
Bob  made  so  easily;  and  Mrs.  Weston. 

White  with  anger  Bob  read  the  article  again, 
tensing  the  fingers  of  his  powerful  hands  uncon- 
sciously. Panoramic  memories  of  Reddy's 
insults,  less  humorous  now  in  the  light  of 
Bob's  new  vision,  danced  mockingly  before 
him.  .  .  .  Gunnigan's  abuse  and  his  own 
philosophy.  .  .  .  There  had  hinged  his 
fate  with  Jean. 


Chapter  Twenty-Three          239 

Gunnigan!  Gunnigan!  Gunnigan!  Bob's 
heart  beneath  the  splendid  muscles  of  his  chest 
seemed  pounding  it  in  rhythm.  Arrogant  med- 
dler in  the  privacies  of  existence!  Glib-tongued 
parasite  of  the  liquor  interests!  The  brutal 
assailer  of  Rose's  life  of  sacrifice  and  Larry's 
shipwreck ! 

Bob  reached  for  his  hat. 

How  eventually  he  made  his  way  through 
the  streets  to  the  Journal  Building  and  filed 
past  the  deserted  desks  to  Reddy's  private  office, 
he  never  fully  recalled.  He  only  knew  that 
Fate  smiled  upon  him.  For  Reddy,  with  the 
six  o'clock  whistles  shrilling  a  message  of  release 
to  the  workaday  world,  was  bending  over  some 
extra  work  upon  his  desk  and  whistling. 

Bob  halted  in  the  doorway  and  stared  through 
narrowed  eyes  at  the  big,  raw-boned,  crafty- 
faced  Irishman  who  had  risen  and  changed  color 
at  the  sight  of  him,  and  the  office  flashed  for  one 
baleful  instant  the  color  of  Reddy's  hair,  then 
with  a  roar  of  fury  Bob  literally  dropped  him- 
self upon  the  frightened  Irishman  and  bore  him 
sputtering  to  the  floor. 


Chapter  24 

Which  concerns  itself  with  a  gladiator  and  a 
hirsute  'battle-trophy,  bandages  and  arnica 
and  a  telephone  call,  and  telh  how  the  humble 
gladiator  made  port,  battered  and  elemental 

AT  the  Hame  the  grandfather's  clock  had 
boomed  the  half  hour  after  six  when  the 
doorbell  pealed.  It  was  a  prolonged,  impatient 
sort  of  tinkle,  and  Jean,  discussing  the  probable 
sources  of  the  Gunnigan  editorial  with  the  Doc- 
tor, hastened  away  to  answer  it. 

"Bob!"  she  cried,  drawing  back  with  a  hor- 
rified gasp.  But  there  was  very  little  resem- 
blance to  the  lazy,  good-humored  philosopher  in 
this  battle-scarred  apparition  upon  the  porch, 
with  the  swollen  eye  and  bleeding  lip;  for  the 
single  visible  organ  of  vision  beneath  his  hat- 
less  mop  of  hair  was  flashing  with  the  light 
of  victory,  his  mouth  was  taut  and  grim,  and 
Bob's  white  face,  for  all  its  stains  and  scratches, 
reflected  terrible  concern. 

Jean  stared  at  him  in  speechless  inquiry,  her 
fascinated  eyes  lingering  upon  the  battle-trophy 
in  his  hand,  an  unmistakable  lock  of  carrot- 

240 


Chapter  Twenty-Four          241 

colored  hair  which  Bob  was  holding  forth  in 
mirthless  satisfaction. 

"  Would  you?  "  he  demanded,  "  would  you 
regard  that  as  sufficiently  elemental?  " 

It  was  a  curious  sort  of  glance,  Bob  thought, 
with  which  Jean  met  his  eyes.  There  was  humor 
in  it  and  concern  and  something  nameless  and 
unfathomable  which  set  his  veins  to  throbbing 
queerly. 

It  remained  for  the  Doctor,  bolting  into  the 
hallway  in  a  spasm  of  curiosity,  to  put  into 
words  Jean's  own  conviction.  One  thunder- 
struck glance  at  the  vivid  lock  of  hair  in  Bob's 
hand  and  the  Doctor's  excitement  burst  all 
bounds. 

"  Bobbie,  lad,"  he  cried,  "  dinna  ye  tell  me 
that  ye've  trimmed  Reddy  Gunnigan  and  then 
come  a-scallawaggin'  here  in  such  a  fearsome 
state  to  fetch  a  flamin'  lock  of  his  thievin*  scalp 
for  a  man  to  feast  his  eyes  upon!  I  just  winna 
believe  it,  lad.  I  canna  believe  it ! " 

"  I  have  trimmed  Mr.  Gunnigan,"  said  Bob, 
fixing  his  single  visible  eye  upon  Jean  with  burn- 
ing intensity,  "with  beautiful  and  gratifying 
completeness.  It  was  elemental  —  elemental  in 
the  extreme!"  The  Doctor's  jaw  dropped  at 
Bob's  toneless  pride.  '  To  be  sure  I  may  seem 
battered  myself  but  I  can  cordially  testify  that 


242          The  Lovable  Meddler 

Mr.  Gunnigan  himself  is  in  infinitely  worse 
straits  than  I  —  infinitely  worse !  Mr.  Gun- 
nigan will  apologize  to  the  Westons  in  the 
columns  of  the  Daily  Journal  and  Mr.  Gunnigan 
will  in  general,  I  think,  mend  his  ways ! " 

Once  more  he  dangled  the  hirsute  battle- 
trophy  before  Jean's  eyes. 

"  Would  you,"  he  insisted  with  deadly  single- 
ness of  purpose,  "  would  you  consider  that  suf- 
ficiently elemental?" 

"Fiddlesticks!"  snapped  the  Doctor.  "I 
don't  know  what  you're  bletherin'  about,  Bob, 
but  myself  I  can  see  plain  enough  that  it's  no 
time  to  be  a-wigwaggin'  Reddy's  scalp  lock 
about  and  boomin'  so  stern  and  solemn  about 
'  elementals '  to  Jeannie  with  your  one  guid  eye 
like  to  burn  the  lass  up!  What  with  your  ragin' 
and  battlin'  about  so  fearful  and  burstin'  loose  so 
unexpected  when  ye  have  been  so  perfectly  mild 
and  safe  and  respectable  this  many  a  year,  ye've 
gone  plumb  daffy  with  the  shock  of  it.  Ele- 
mentals indeed!  Man  alive,  'tis  a  time  for 
essentials  and  nothing  but  essentials.  And  essen- 
tials in  this  case,  I  would  have  ye  know,  are 
arnica  and  bandages  and  a  guid  physician. 
Into  the  office  with  ye  this  instant  and  dinna 
ye  go  to  boomin'  any  more  about  elementals  to 
Jeannie  or  wigwaggin'  that  daffy  bit  of  hair 


Chapter  Twenty-Four  243 

until  I  have  dressed  your  eye.  Jeannie,  if  ye 
can  manage  to  use  your  tongue  again  for  the 
purpose  it  was  given  ye,  and  quit  starin'  so 
queer  at  your  daffy  gladiator,  I  would  have 
Flora  bring  some  hot  water  to  the  office  straight- 
way and  if  the  lad  has  not  fussed  ye  out  of 
your  senses,  I  would  greatly  appreciate  such 
assistance  as  ye  can  render.  Now,  Bobbie,  lad, 
march!  " 

And  "  Bobbie,  lad,"  marched  to  be  scalded 
and  antisepticized  and  linimented  and  bandaged 
by  the  Doctor's  gentle  hands  while  Jean  hov- 
ered in  the  background,  proffering  scissors  and 
bandages  and  drugs  as  the  Doctor's  grunts 
betokened  their  need. 

"Hum!"  The  Doctor  surveyed  his  patient 
with  a  glint  of  humor.  "  I  canna  say  I  have 
greatly  improved  your  appearance,  lad,  with 
my  bandages  and  my  plasters,  but  I  dinna 
doubt  ye're  a  sight  more  comfortable  and 
hygienic.  Guid  faith,  what  a  bandaged  fire- 
eater  we  have  with  us  to-night,  to  be  sure! 
Dizzy  a  bit,  eh? "  he  .added  gently  as  Bob  tried 
to  rise.  "  I  was  afraid  of  that.  Ye've  lost  more 
blood  from  the  nasty  cut  on  your  forehead  than 
ye  would  think.  The  edge  of  Reddy's  desk,  eh? 
.  .  .  Hum.  'Twas  a  great  service,  Bobbie, 
ye  did  Auburnia  to-night.  I'm  so  mortal  proud 


244          The  Lovable  Meddler 

of  ye  I  could  jig  a  bit  if  it  was  considered 
professional." 

Bob  stretched  his  battered  bulk  upon  the  office 
couch. 

The  telephone  rang. 

"  Hello,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Yes,  ye  have  Dr. 
Glenmuir  on  the  wire  now.  .  .  .  Hum. 
.  .  .  Hum.  .  .  .  Hum! "  he  cleared  his 
throat  with  a  rasp.  "  Verra  well,"  he  snapped 
suddenly,  "  I  will  come  if,  as  ye  say,  ye  canna 
get  anyone  else.  I  canna  say  willingly  —  but  I 
will  come  anyway.  That  will  doubtless  be 
sufficient." 

He  turned  brusquely  away  from  the  tel- 
ephone, washed  his  hands  at  the  basin  in  the 
corner  and  reached  for  his  hat  and  case. 

"Who  was  it?"  asked  Jean. 

The  Doctor  avoided  her  eyes. 

"  'Tis  one  of  the  times,  dear  lass,"  said  he, 
"  when  I  must  forget  that  I  am  a  sinful  man 
with  sinful  prejudices,  and  be  nothing  but  a  saw- 
bones with  a  little  bag  of  surgical  jim-cricks  for 
mendin'  a  man's  body  while  I  seek  with  all  my 
might  to  forget  the  color  of  his  soul." 

"  And  the  patient?  "  Jean  turned  dark,  accus- 
ing eyes  upon  the  evader. 

"  Well,  lass,"  said  the  Doctor  as  he  rang  for 
Jamie,  "if  ye  must  know  the  truth,  'tis  none 


Chapter  Twenty-Four  245 

other  than  Reddy  Gunnigan  himself.  His 
housekeeper  tells  me  that  five  of  the  doctorin' 
folk  about  winna  touch  him  —  winna  even  go 
to  look  at  him,  small  blame  to  'em,  and  the  man 
is  wrecked  fearful.  There  is  many  a  time,  lass, 
when  I  would  greatly  prefer  to  be  a  gypsy 
tinker  with  a  tent  upon  the  roadside,  a-mendin' 
pots  and  kettles  instead  of  folks,  and  this  is  one 
of  them.  Jamie,  lad,  I  would  have  the  car 
quickly  if  you  please." 

'  You're    going  1 "    Jean    wheeled    upon   the 
offender  with  a  loyal  glance  at  Bob. 

"  Hist,  lass !  "  thundered  the  Doctor,  his  voice 
surcharged  with  rebellion  and  annoyance.  "  I 
am  a  physician  in  guid  standin'  and  the  man  is 
sufferin'.  The  Brimstone  Hornie  himself 
would  go." 

Bob's  glance  followed  him  with  marked 
approval.  As  the  door  closed  he  caught  Jean's 
hand  and  held  it  tightly  to  his  lips. 

"  Jeannie,"  he  begged,  "  I  am  a  bit  elemental, 
don't  you  think  so?  You  can't  imagine  how  ele- 
mental I've  been  feeling  since  I  read  that  beastly 
editorial." 

Jean's  face  flamed  and  her  eyes  had  in  them 
again  that  darkly  golden  flash  of  topaz.  Biting 
her  lips  courageously  she  turned  away.  For 
somehow  there  was  something  about  Bob  as  he 


246  The  Lovable  Meddler 

lay  there  helpless  and  humble  for  all  his  splendid 
strength  of  will  and  body,  something  about  his 
ridiculous  pursuit  of  the  elemental  that  made 
her  throat  tighten  oddly. 

"  I  know  I'm  wonderfully  proficient  in  the 
art  of  picking  unromantic  settings,"  went  on 
Bob,  essaying  a  smile  that  made  him  wince. 
"  You've  often  said  so.  When  my  canoe 
upset  and  then  when  you  were  up  in  the  tree, 
and  there  in  the  barn.  The  Lord  knows  I'm 
a  poor  sort  of  lover  now  with  a  bandage  over 
my  eye  and  a  chain  of  plasters  on  my  lip,  but, 
Oh,  Jean  dear,  if  you  could  know  —  "  But  Bob 
looked  away;  for  the  feeling  had  surged  over 
him  that  he  dare  not  put  his  fate  to  the  test 
again  lest  he  lose  for  all  time  this  girl  he  had 
enshrined  in  his  heart  since  boyhood. 

And  Jean  miraculously  understood.  After 
all  there  had  been  no  lack  of  spirit.  Bob  had 
simply  declined  to  take  himself  seriously.  When 
Reddy's  shafts  were  turned  upon  his  friends, 
philosophy  vanished. 

So  in  one  great  thrilling  flash  came  the  true 
insight  into  Bob's  nature  and  Jean  faced  the 
knowledge  that  even  that  day  in  the  barn  she 
had  felt  the  warning  stir  of  this  force  that  bound 
her  to  him  now.  And  Larry  had  always  under- 
stood. That  was  a  little  galling.  It  was  just 


Bob  stirred  uneasily  and  the  (jirl  dropped  to  her  knees  by 
the  side  of  the  couch  with  a  lauyh  that  teas  half  a  nob.  "  Oh, 
Bob,  dear,"  she  said  bravely,  "  /  have  been  a  very  great 
fool." 


Chapter  Twenty-Four  247 

as  he  had  said.  Bob's  philosophy  was  his 
strength  and  not  his  weakness. 

Bob  stirred  uneasily  and  the  girl  dropped  to 
her  knees  by  the  couch  with  a  laugh  that  was 
half  a  sob. 

"  Oh,  Bob,  dear,"  she  said  bravely,  "  I  have 
been  a  very  great  fool.  I  would  not  have  you 
different!" 


Chapter  25 

In  which  the  Doctor  finds  himself  the  guardian 

of  a  startling  patient  and  thereby  a 

mystery  is  cleared  up 

T7RETFUL  at  the  unexpected  twist  to  the 
-••  Gunnigan  tangle,  the  Doctor  had  mean- 
while arrived  at  his  patient's  house  in  Hart 
Avenue,  disciplining  his  face  to  a  stony  mask 
of  professionalism.  But  such  impassiveness  was 
foreign  to  the  Doctor's  nature  and  one  glance 
at  the  groaning  wreck  upon  the  bed  in  Reddy's 
room  shattered  the  resolution.  The  trimming 
of  Mr.  Gunnigan  had  indeed  been  accomplished 
with  completeness! 

Startled,  the  Doctor  took  immediate  command. 
In  a  very  few  minutes  he  had  dispatched  the 
frightened  housekeeper  to  the  kitchen  with  a 
volley  of  directions. 

"  Reddy,"  he  bluntly  advised  his  patient,  "  ye 
might  just  as  well  quit  swearin*  and  bouncin' 
about  so  wild,  for  ye  will  not  profit  by  it  and 
ye  have  considerable  fever  now.  I  canna  pre- 
tend to  get  a  guid  look  at  your  collection  of 
bumps  and  bruises  if  ye  will  persist  in  monkey- 

248 


Chapter  Twenty-Five  249 

doodlin'  about  the  bed  like  a  wild  man.  Ye 
deserved  every  bit  of  the  thrashin'  he  gave  ye 
and  ye  know  it  well  enough  yourself.  'Tis  a 
matter  of  verra  great  amazement  to  me  that 
ye  have  not  come  to  some  such  grief  before 
this.  Well,  are  ye  done  bouncin'  about?" 

Frowning,  the  Doctor  bent  over  his  patient 
and  examined  the  many  ravages  of  Bob's  pow- 
erful and  persistent  fist.  And  now  his  mood 
changed. 

"  Steady,  man !  "  he  advised  kindly.  '  Ye 
know  well  enough  I  will  not  hurt  ye  any  more 
than  I  can  possibly  help.  Ye're  sufferin'  badly 
here,  eh? "  and  Reddy  was  conscious  that  hands, 
deft  and  gentle  for  all  their  strength,  had  found 
the  agonizing  pain  along  his  shoulder  blade  and 
slipped  the  joint  into  place.  Panting  and 
sweating  he  fell  back  limply  on  the  pillow, 
groaning  afresh  at  the  pain  from  a  fractured 
collar-bone  and  a  broken  rib. 

"  More  hot  water  and  bandages  here,  Mrs. 
Byrnes,"  said  the  Doctor,  working  swiftly,  "  and 
still  another  roll  of  absorbent  cotton,  if  ye  please. 
I  must  have  considerable  more  water  too  of 
about  the  same  temperature  and  a  bit  of  cracked 
ice  in  a  towel.  .  .  .  Hum !  I  would  greatly 
esteem  it,  madam,  if  ye  would  not  stare  so  much 
and  would  hurry  a  bit  more.  The  man  is  suf- 


250  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ferin'  sorely.  ...  A  dim  light  now  and  a 
bit  of  order  and  ventilation.  .  .  .  Now  if  ye 
will  be  guid  enough  to  find  the  nearest  drug 
store  —  " 

Mrs.  Byrnes  departed  and  the  Doctor  went 
below  to  telephone  his  favorite  nurse. 

As  he  hung  up  the  receiver  the  doorbell  rang. 
It  was  Peter  Caperton.  The  Doctor  surveyed 
him  in  astonishment. 

"  Roderick,"  stammered  the  judge,  conceal- 
ing his  own  surprise,  "  I  have  come  here 
expressly  to  remonstrate  with  Mr.  Gunnigan 
about  his  infamous  attack  upon  the  Westons. 
Really,  you  know,  it  is  high  time  this  sort  of 
thing  ended  and  as  a  citizen  who  keenly  feels 
the  obligations  of  citizenship,  I  feel  called  upon 
to  protest.  I  —  I  consider  it  a  blight  upon  the 
,  town's  fair  name,  I  do  indeed.  And  —  " 

"  Run  along  to  the  Hame  o'  Roses  with  ye, 
Peter,  lad,"  interrupted  the  Doctor,  "  and  wait 
for  me  there.  I  canna  have  ye  reformin'  poor 
Reddy  to-night.  I  dinna  mind  tellin  ye,  though, 
that  Bob  has  been  remonstratin'  with  him  fearful 
already  and  I  think  the  poor  man's  had  about 
all  the  remonstratin'  he  can  stand  for  a  while 
without  verra  disastrous  results."  In  a  whisper 
the  Doctor  divulged  some  details. 

"  Well,   Roderick,"   said  the  judge,   staring, 


Chapter  Twenty-Five  251 

"  I  am  surprised.  Young  Bob,  eh?  My,  my, 
it  does  seem  incredible." 

"  Run  along  now,  Peter,"  said  the  Doctor, 
closing  the  door.  "  I'll  come  when  I  can." 

But  the  judge  was  not  the  only  Gunnigan 
visitor  whom  the  Doctor  intercepted. 

Came  presently  the  clatter  of  a  cane  upon  the 
porch  and  the  Doctor,  forestalling  the  peal  of 
the  bell,  found  this  time  a  bristling  caller  whose 
eyes  flashed  fire  beneath  his  bushy  eyebrows. 

"  Roderick ! "  exclaimed  Colonel  Huntley. 
'  Well,  'pon  my  soul,  Roderick !  What  in  blue- 
black-blazes  are  you  doing  here?" 

The  Doctor  told  him. 

"  Professional  call,  eh?  Humph!  Well, 
personally,  I've  come  to  thrash  Gunnigan.  Yes, 
sir,"  with  a  thunderous  rap  of  his  cane,  "  to 
thrash  him  —  every  inch  of  his  contemptible 
hide.  He's  persistently  insulted  my  Bob  and 
I've  been  waiting  some  time  for  an  opportunity 
to  get  him.  Hadn't  been  for  Bob  I'd  have  had 
him  long  ago.  Drag  decent  women  into  his 
dirty  politics,  will  he?  Well,  sir,  I'll  show  him 
what  an  officer  of  the  G.  A.  R.  can  do ! " 

"  Trot  along  with  yourself,  Colonel,"  ex- 
claimed the  Doctor.  "  Ye're  talkin'  loose.  Bob 
trimmed  Reddy  this  hour  back  and  ever  since 
I've  been  a-sewin'  and  patchin'  and  rivetin'  the 


252  The  Lovable  Meddler 

poor  man  together  again.  Ye  will  doubtless  find 
your  warrior  offspring  in  the  office  with  my 
Jeannie  fussin'  over  him,  but  I  would  advise  ye 
not  to  let  his  mother  see  him  without  a  tactful 
bit  of  preparation,  for  the  lad  himself,  no 
matter  how  ye  may  turn  him  about,  is  a  bit 
unsightly.  Get  along  to  the  Hame  with  ye  now, 
Colonel.  I  canna  leave  my  patient  alone  so  long. 
And  dinna  slather  so  with  your  cane." 

And  final  visitor  of  all,  with  the  nurse  installed 
in  the  sick  room  and  the  Doctor  about  to  depart, 
came  O'Hagan.  Through  the  excited  outburst 
which  followed  his  fruitless  demand  for  Reddy, 
it  came  to  light  that  O'Hagan  too  wished  to 
remonstrate  with  Mr.  Gunnigan. 

;  'Twas  not  the  thing  itself,  ye  understand," 
he  finished.  ;  'Twas  the  dirty,  sneakin'  way  he 
wrote  it  up  after  me  givin'  him  the  facts  to  work 
with  and  trustin'  him  to  act  a  bit  discreet  with 
'em.  Ye  can  wager  your  last  cint  on  it,  if  I'd 
guessed  what  he'd  be  doin'  with  the  story,  I'd 
have  thrashed  him  before  the  printin'  of  it  instid 
of  comin'  here  now  to  do  it." 

The  Doctor's  eyes  flashed  with  peculiar 
interest. 

"  O'Hagan,"  said  he  crisply,  "  I'm  mortal 
glad  ye've  come.  Now  ye  will  just  trot  obedient 
into  this  room  here  and  tell  me  the  truth  about 


Chapter  Twenty-Five  253 

this  fearful  mysterious  editorial.  Mind,  man, 
I  would  have  the  whole  story,  just  how  ye  came 
to  be  so  queerly  mixed  up  with  the  press  and 
politicianin'  and  all  about  it." 

Nothing  loath  now  to  unveil  his  scheme  to  the 
benefactor  for  whom  he  had  planned  it, 
O'Hagan  obeyed.  Long  before  he  had  finished, 
the  Doctor's  eyes  were  circular  with  dismay. 

"  O'Hagan,"  he  gasped,  appalled  by  the  frank 
recital,  "  ye  have  just  fair  scandalized  the  heart 
out  of  me.  Why  didn't  ye  tell  me  this  before?  " 

"  'Twas  best  to  be  secret,"  said  O'Hagan, 
"  until  I'd  swung  it  all  —  " 

"  I  dinna  think,"  broke  in  the  scandalized 
Doctor,  mopping  back  his  hair,  "  that  I  have 
ever  heard  of  such  a  weird,  madcap  perform- 
ance. And  I  must  say  ye  have  verra  original 
notions  about  repayin'  a  debt  of  gratitude. 
Verra!  Here  am  I  a-scallawaggin'  about 
Reddy's  house  protectin'  him  from  the  results 
of  my  own  folly  which  ye  have  gone  to  the 
trouble  of  gratifyin'  in  such  a  peculiar  manner. 
I  winna  gab  any  more  about  anything  until  I 
have  first  set  myself  down  in  a  sound-proof 
vault!  And  then  ye  bolt  in  here  of  a  sudden 
with  your  buttons  like  to  burst  off  any  min- 
ute, and  tell  me  ye  would  beat  up  Reddy  for 
carryin'  out  your  orders.  'Tis  a  fearful  muddle! 


254  The  Lovable  Meddler 

And  so  after  hearin'  all  my  reckless  gabbin' 
with  your  ear  to  the  keyhole,  ye  went  to  Mor- 
ough  and  brazenly  told  him  I  would  doubtless 
support  Mr.  Weston's  candidacy.  'Tis  verra 
difficult,  O'Hagan,  for  me  to  get  that  through 
my  noddle." 

"  I  merely  hinted  it,"  corrected  O'Hagan. 
"  I  told  him  that  the  two  families  of  ye  were 
good  friends,  a-visitin'  back  and  forth,  and  Mor- 
ough,  not  seein'  where  to  turn  his  head  anyway 
with  Hogan's  gang  secedin',  fell  for  it." 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head  in  hopeless 
bewilderment. 

"  I  will  doubtless  have  to  go  into  retirement 
and  brood  verra  careful  over  this  thing  before 
I  comprehend  the  full  extent  of  your  ingen- 
uity," said  he  slowly,  "  but  there's  no  doubt  that 
ye've  stirred  up  as  much  excitement  as  a  mouse 
in  a  harem!  What  with  offers  to  trim  Reddy 
springin'  up  from  the  most  unexpected  sources, 
and  Reddy  with  his  carcass  wrecked  and  myself 
a-quarrelin'  with  the  colonel  and  the  judge  and 
accusin'  'em  flat  of  babblin'  about  my  indis- 
creet outburst  of  t'other  night,  'tis  altogether 
such  a  devilish  schemie  as  the  Brimstone  Hornie 
himself  might  concoct.  O'Hagan,  ye're  a  rattle- 
brained Irishman  and  ye  must  drop  out  of  pol- 
itics as  sudden  as  ye  dropped  into  'em.  And 


Chapter  Twenty-Five  255 

mind  ye  keep  the  whole  fearful  muddle  under 
your  hat!  " 

O'Hagan's  face  lengthened. 

'Tis  not  that  I  dinna  appreciate  your  grat- 
itude, man,"  said  the  Doctor  kindly,  "  but  ye've 
such  a  mortal  queer  way  of  expressin'  it." 

So  at  last  the  mystery  was  solved;  but  the 
Doctor's  homeward  comment  was  very  gloomy. 

"  There's  no  man  in  Auburnia,"  he  said,  "  so 
mortal  prone  to  gettin'  in  pickles  as  myself;  and 
there's  no  doubt  my  Agnes  is  right:  It  all 
comes  from  my  meddlesome,  clackin'  tongue, 
deil  take  it!" 


Chapter  26 

A  chapter  of  picturesque  politics,  of  a  tired  and 
worried  mother  with  slowly  whitening  hair 
and  how  Mother  Rose  grew  even  cheerier  as 
the  days  went  by 

AFTER  the  first  shock  of  O'Hagan's  revel- 
ation, the  Doctor  and  his  cronies,  wagging 
their  heads  in  session,  settled  back  to  await  the 
revolutionary  effect  of  the  Gunnigan  editorial 
upon  King  Rodney's  life. 

"  For  the  man  just  canna  side-step!  "  pointed 
out  the  Doctor.  "  D'ye  see  any  way  he  can, 
Peter,  lad  ?  He  must  see  now  how  others  regard 
his  conceited  manner  of  livin'  and  doubtless  he 
will  find  himself  obliged  to  correct  it  and  find 
a  job  if  he  does  not  wish  to  remain  so  mortal 
conspicuous.  Maybe  —  God  knows  I  hope  it ! 
—  maybe  the  final  results  will  compensate  for 
this  fearful  notoriety  into  which  Letty  and  my 
poor  dear  Leddy  Rose  have  found  themselves 
plunged  so  unexpected  by  the  bletherin'  indis- 
cretions of  a  sinful  sawbones.  .  .  .  Your 
deal,  Colonel,  and  ye  canna  deny  it." 

But  the  revolutionary  effect  of  the  editorial 

256 


Chapter  Twenty-Six  257 

was  somehow  not  forthcoming.  As  the  days 
filed  by,  the  Doctor's  desperate  hope  that  Rod- 
ney's notoriety  would  shame  him,  paled  and 
flickered  forlornly  out,  meeting,  as  the  Doctor 
glumly  hinted  to  his  wife,  the  disastrous  fate  of 
everything  with  which  Roderick  Glenmuir,  "  sin- 
ful sawbones,  meddler  and  matchmaker  on  the 
Hornie's  staff! "  was  directly  or  indirectly 
associated. 

For  Rodney  with  conspicuous  dignity  serenely 
went  his  political  way,  a  martyred  but  neverthe- 
less frankly  broad-minded  victim  of  the  rabid 
press,  more  and  more  blinded  to  his  real  position 
by  the  glamor  of  a  growing  sense  of  importance 
fostered  in  him  by  those  political  barnacles  who 
were  banking  warily  upon  his  slender  chances  of 
success. 

"  Oh,  my,  my,  my,  Agnes! "  sniffed  the  Doc- 
tor. "  I  can  see  plainly  now  that  I  have  made 
another  great  mistake,  a  verra  great  mistake. 
The  man  has  less  time  to  hunt  a  job  now  than 
he  had  before.  What  with  his  daffy  art  and  his 
daffier  politicianin',  he's  too  mortal  busy  to 
work  of  course.  Ye  canna  reasonably  expect  it. 
Poor,  poor  Mother  Rose!"  And  the  Doctor's 
voice  was  very  bitter. 

Unaware  of  the  ripple  of  laughter  and  rid- 
icule beneath  the  town's  exaggerated  air  of 


258  The  Lovable  Meddler 

deference,  Rodney  strode  politically  forth  to 
conquer,  much  in  the  manner  of  certain  fiction 
heroes  of  politics  whose  adventures  he  was  fol- 
lowing with  interest.  He  was  jovial  —  this 
handsome  candidate  for  mayor  —  he  was  mag- 
netic; but  Reddy's  editorial  had  undermined  his 
campaign  at  the  start. 

Mystified  at  the  ominous  political  silence 
around  the  Hame  o'  Roses,  Morough  tried 
vainly  to  get  in  touch  with  O'Hagan;  but  the 
Irish  gear-wheel  had  as  irresponsibly  dropped 
out  of  politics  as  he  had  dropped  in,  and  the 
political  top  he  had  set  to  spinning,  spun  giddily 
on  without  him.  Locks  were  good  and  tele- 
phones uncertain. 

With  the  recantation  of  Reddy's  editorial,  the 
royal  self-assurance  of  King  Rodney  flared 
into  gorgeous  blossom  and  convinced  him  at  last 
that  he  was  the  idol  of  the  hour.  Only  the  busy 
women  of  the  royal  household  felt  the  bitter 
sting  of  their  notoriety.  Rose,  whose  anxious 
eyes  missed  nothing,  saw  with  a  tightening  of 
her  throat  that  Mother  Letty  was  growing  pale 
and  thin  and  that  her  hair  was  whitening  rap- 
idly from  day  to  day.  ...  So  Rose's  laugh 
grew  sunnier  and  nights  no  shadow  marred  the 
welcoming  cheer  of  her  face. 

Once  Mrs.  Weston,  looking  up  into  the  brave 


Chapter  Twenty-Six  259 

brown  eyes  of  this  loyal  first-born,  caught  the 
girl  wildly  to  her  in  a  sudden  impulse. 

"Oh,     Rose,     child,"     she     said     brokenly; 
"  Mother  knows,  dear  - 

But  Rose's  splendid  control  did  not  desert  her, 
"Dear,  dear  Mother!"  she  said  gently, 
smoothing  back  the  soft  white  hair  and  ignoring 
the  tears,  "you're  tired  and  upset,  aren't  you? 
And  the  day  has  been  so  windy  and  unpleasant. 
Let  me  make  you  a  cup  of  tea  and  then  you'd 
better  lie  down  a  little  while  before  dinner.  And 
Carol  has  such  splendid  news,  Mother.  Frau- 
lein  is  delighted  with  her  elocution.  And  Tavia's 
teacher,  such  a  pretty,  pleasant  girl,  came  to-day, 
and  she  says  that  Tavia,  for  all  her  impishness, 
is  a  dear,  bright,  lovable  little  kiddy.  We  knew 
it,  didn't  we?  And,  Oh,  Mother! "  Rose's  voice 
grew  very  droll,  "  those  dreadful  twins  are  going 
to  paint  the  house,  beginning  on  Saturday  and 
working  in  the  early  mornings.  Isn't  it  funny! 
They've  already  invested  so  heavily  in  paint- 
brushes and  ladders  and  paint  pots  that  I  simply 
haven't  the  heart  to  discourage  them."  Laugh- 
ing through  her  tears,  Mother  Letty  was  borne 
away  to  a  comfortable  couch  in  a  quiet  room 
where  a  log  glowed  and  crackled  in  the  dusk, 
there  to  be  cheered  and  petted  and  scolded  over 
a  refreshing  cup  of  tea. 


260  The  Lovable  Meddler 

But  Marcia  had  turned  away,  biting  her  lips 
as  the  two  departed.  For  she  alone  had  seen 
the  throbbing,  tell-tale  veins  in  Rose's  throat 
and  the  one  swift  look  of  agony  in  her  eyes  as 
she  mutely  met  her  sister's  glance  of  sympathy. 
Surely  those  words  of  Mother  Letty's  had  hinted 
some  heartbroken  knowledge  of  Larry's  love 
and  a  passionate  benediction  for  the  girl's  sweet 
and  fearless  strength  in  her  hour  of  trial. 


Chapter  27 

Tells  how  the  Doctor  dropped  in  to  see  Davy 

and  how  he  ripped  out  the  buttonhole  in 

Director  Harvey's  shirt-band 

AND  the  next  day  the  Doctor  dropped  in  to 
see  Davy,  an  innocent  enough  proceeding 
in  itself,  but  one  so  fraught  with  results  that 
eventually  its  ever-widening  circle  of  influence 
lapped  the  distant  shore  of  Syria. 

A  lecture  to  the  staff  of  St.  Jerome's,  of 
which  in  earlier  years  the  Doctor  had  been  a 
member,  and  a  habit  of  dropping  into  Mrs. 
Weston's  office  whenever  he  was  in  town,  were 
in  this  instance  the  strings  which  guided  the 
Doctor  to  his  goal. 

It  was  raining  when  he  turned  into  Broad 
Street,  a  gusty  day  of  wind  and  gloom,  and  as 
the  Doctor  halted,  per  custom,  to  revel  in  the 
fevered  activity  of  the  Curb,  a  gale  of  wind 
seized  his  hat  and  bowled  it  around  a  corner, 
whence  the  disgusted  Doctor  promptly  followed 
it  down  the  street.  Having  clapped  the  elusive 
headpiece  back  upon  his  head,  he  stood  looking 

261 


262  The  Lovable  Meddler 

up  at  the  skyscraper  to  which  the  chase  had 
led  him,  raising  ironic  eyebrows. 

"  Hum!  "  said  he,  "  I  might  just  as  well  drop 
in  to  see  Davy  now  that  my  daffy  hat  has  led 
me  to  the  verra  door.  I  have  promised  him 
this  two  year  and  over  that  I  would  be  droppin' 
in  and  now  I  will  give  the  old  Scotchie  a 
start!" 

Now  Davy,  the  Doctor's  friend,  was  by  day 
an  expressionless,  opinionless,  toneless,  hyper- 
efficient  automaton.  In  the  offices  of  the 
Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  Company  it  was  con- 
fidently believed  that  Davy  had  never  in  his 
life  made  an  unnecessary  motion,  that  he  never 
permitted  a  single  human  ray  to  illuminate  the 
bleak  leather  mask  which  the  office  force  by 
courtesy  alone  called  a  face;  daytime  habits 
with  which  he  had  often  longed  to  startle  the 
Doctor. 

What  wonder  then  that  the  Doctor,  making 
his  way  to  Davy's  desk  at  the  heels  of  an  office 
boy,  stared  in  dismay  at  the  gaunt,  leather- 
faced  apparition  who  swung  slowly  about  in  his 
chair  and,  despite  an  inner  glow  of  satisfaction, 
regarded  the  Doctor  with  fixed,  expressionless 
gaze. 

"Davy,  lad!"  exclamed  the  Doctor  at  last, 
more  and  more  staggered  by  Davy's  terrible  air 


Chapter  Twenty-Seven          263 

of  efficiency.  '  What  would  be  wrong  with  your 
face,  lad?  'Tis  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  tough 
bit  of  leather.  If  ye  have  any  regard  at  all  for 
your  old  friend's  feelin's,  dinna  stare  at  me  so 
mortal  stony.  Ye  give  me  the  creeps.  What 
with  your  jerkin'  slowly  about  with  such  an  air 
of  machinery  like  an  electric  man,  'tis  fair 
uncanny.  I  dinna  believe  I  could  stir  ye  up 
enough  to  wrangle  with  me  about  Karl  Marx 
even.  Where  d'ye  feel  sick,  anyway,  man,  or 
have  ye  gone  daffy? " 

"  Hist!  "  warned  Davy.  "  Would  ye  spoil  my 
reputation  in  the  office  by  talkin'  so  loose  of 
Karl  Marx?  My  business  and  my  private  life 
are  verra  different  things,  man ! " 

"  Fiddlesticks!  "  snapped  the  Doctor.  "  Davy, 
lad,  ye  will  come  to  the  Hame  this  evenin'  to 
be  ozonized  for  your  asthma  and  examined  to 
boot.  I  dinna  doubt  ye  have  struck  your  head 
somehow.  I  winna  get  over  this  shock  for  many 
a  day.  Ye're  a  queer  lad,  no  gainsayin'  it,  and 
I  hope  ye'll  never  let  your  old  mother  get  a 
glimpsie  of  ye  in  this  leathery  state.  'Twould 
doubtless  overcome  her." 

The  Doctor's  hectoring  was  interrupted  by  the 
hurried  entrance  of  Davy's  chief. 

"  Gordon,"  said  the  president  of  Alabama 
Coal  and  Iron,  "  phone  for  a  doctor  double 


264  The  Lovable  Meddler 

quick.    Mr.  Harvey's  been  taken  suddenly  ill." 

Davy's  expressionless  eyes  turned  slowly  upon 
the  Doctor,  then  with  a  single  automatic  move- 
ment of  his  hand,  palm  upward,  he  brought  his 
visitor  to  the  attention  of  his  chief. 

The  president,  accustomed  to  Davy's  elisions, 
glinted  at  the  baggy  knees  of  Davy's  guest. 

'  You  are  a  doctor? "  he  demanded  curtly. 

"  I  have  been  called  so  by  indulgent  friends," 
said  the  Doctor  dryly.  "  And  my  state  is  guid 
enough  to  permit  me  to  practice." 

"  Hum !  "  Eyes  that  glittered  like  polished 
points  of  steel  glanced  rather  sharply  at  the 
Doctor,  who  reached  for  his  pocket  case  of  drugs. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Dr.  Glenmuir  found  him- 
self in  the  heart  of  a  directors'  meeting,  bending 
over  a  rotund  and  frothing  old  gentleman  in  a 
semi-unconscious  state  who  was  plainly  the  over- 
excited victim  of  uncontrollable  indignation. 

With  eight  discomfited  directors  around  him, 
the  Doctor  opened  Mr.  Harvey's  collar,  shook 
and  pounded  him  generally  and  curtly  called 
for  water,  which  the  president  himself  secured, 
considerably  accelerated  by  the  Doctor's  impa- 
tient "  Hurry,  man!  And  dinna  bring  me  just 
a  thimbleful.  I  would  have  a  quart." 

Eight  pairs  of  circular  eyes  watched  the 
eventual  disposal  of  the  water  —  for  the  old 


Chapter  Twenty-Seven         265 

gentleman  was  a  person  of  importance  —  and 
presently  with  a  groan  and  a  gurgle  Mr.  Har- 
vey spoke. 

"Forty  per  cent!"  he  sputtered,  waving  his 
arms  wildly  about.  "  Oh,  my  God!  Infamous! 
Outrageous !  A  crowd  of  Don  Quixotes  in  Wall 
Street!" 

"  Out  of  his  head !  "  purred  the  president. 

'  The  man  has  a  fearful  temper,"  said  the 
Doctor  bluntly.  "  And  if  he  gets  himself  in 
such  a  state  again,  he  will  doubtless  have  a  verra 
bad  attack  of  apoplexy.  And  now  that  he  is 
comin'  around,  ye'd  better  call  a  taxi  and  bundle 
him  off  home.  I  will  give  him  a  bit  of  med- 
icine to  calm  his  nerves  but  he  will  doubtless  be 
as  mad  as  a  hornet  when  he  finds  how  wet  he  is 
and  that  I  have  ripped  out  the  buttonhole  of  his 
shirt-band." 

This  final  prognostication  was  verified  to  the 
letter.  Then  the  Doctor,  after  a  word  or  so  with 
the  Scotch  automaton,  who  was  efficiently  pro- 
curing a  taxi  for  Mr.  Harvey,  set  out  for  Mrs. 
Weston's  office. 


Chapter  28 

Concerns  itself  with  Mother  Letty's  office,  with 
still  another  indiscretion  of  a  certain  Scot; 
tells  something  of  the  Coif  ax  loan  and  how  a 
broker  on  the  floor  of  the  Exchange  made  a 
purchase 

HUM !  "  The  Doctor's  kindly  eyes  wandered 
slowly  about  Mrs.  Weston's  comfortable 
inner  office,  lingered  with  approval  upon  Marcia 
and  returned  by  way  of  the  clicking,  glass- 
covered  instrument  in  the  corner  to  his  old 
friend's  face.  It  was  warm  with  welcome,  as  it 
always  was  when  the  meddlesome  Doctor  took 
it  upon  himself  to  appear  in  the  office  and  bully 
Mother  Letty  about  the  dangers  of  overwork. 

'  Ye  are  doubtless  verra  busy,  Letty,  with 
the  folks  outside  a-waitin',  but  I  must  just  take 
time  enough  to  tell  ye  that  ye  are  lookin'  verra 
tired  and  pale  and  nothing  like  so  guid  as  ye 
should." 

"  That,"  said  Mrs.  Weston,  smiling,  "  is  the 
usual  summary  of  your  visits.  A  parrot  could 
do  as  well." 

"  Parrot  or  no,"   insisted   the  Doctor,    "  'tis 

266 


Chapter  Twenty-Eight          267 

mortal  true  to-day.     I  dinna  like  to  see  your 
eyes  so  sad  and  thoughtful.     Hum. 
Dinna  ye  mind  the  clickin'  of  that  thing  in  the 
corner,  Letty?     'Twould  drive  me  out  of  my 
senses,  jabberin'  away  so  persistent." 

The  Doctor  arose  from  his  chair  by  Letty's 
desk  and  inspected  the  ticker  with  interest. 

"'Ala.  C.  and  I.,'"  he  read  after  a  while. 
"  Hum!  That  would  be  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron 
mayhap.  I  have  just  come  from  there.  I  take 
it  that  some  daffy  bull  or  bear  is  a-sniffin'  at 
coal  and  iron  and  gettin'  ready  to  howl  his  head 
off,  eh,  Letty?  Is  it  a  frisky  kind  of  stock, 
lass,  zigzaggin'  up  and  down  frequent? " 

"  Not  very,"  said  Mrs.  Weston.  "  Around 
eighty  most  of  the  time.  David  Gordon's  with 
them,  isn't  he? " 

The  Doctor  instantly  dropped  the  tape  and 
nodding  in  excitement  described  at  some  length 
Davy's  unforgettable  leather  face. 

"  And  then,"  went  on  the  Doctor  deliberately, 
"  right  about  the  center  of  our  wrangle,  in 
comes  a  fearsome  man  with  gimlet  eyes  and 
verra  fine  creases  in  his  troosers  and  he  glints 
at  Davy  and  demands  with  great  haughtiness 
—  a  doctor!  And  Davy  he  dabs  his  arm  out 
like  the  flail  of  a  threshin'  machine,  with  never 
a  word,  mind  ye,  and  before  I  know  well  what 


268  The  Lovable  Meddler 

it's  all  about,  I'm  informally  attendin'  a  direc- 
tors' meetin'  and  dashin'  water  into  the  purple 
face  of  a  daffy  man  who's  gurglin'  about  forty 
per  cent  and  Don  Quixotes  in  Wall  Street  and 
has  got  himself  worked  up  into  such  a  rage  as 
I  have  never  seen  before  in  my  life.  Harvey, 
his  name,  a  man  of  inconceivable  roundness  of 
person  with  a  thick,  wattled  neck  and,  if  I 
dinna  miss  my  guess,  a  thicker  head!  " 

"Harvey!"  Mrs.  Weston  flashed  a  quick 
glance  at  the  Doctor  but  he  was  inspecting  the 
ticker  again  and  seemed  not  to  notice  her  stir 
of  interest. 

"  And,  Letty,"  he  finished,  drifting  around 
again  to  the  subject  of  Davy,  "if  ye  get  a 
spare  minute,  it  would  pay  ye  to  drop  in  and 
take  one  guid  look  at  Davy's  leather  face.  It's 
fearful.  Well,  lass,  your  office  boy  has  popped 
his  carroty  head  in  here  three  times  already  now 
with  a  look  at  me.  I  must  be  on  my  wray. 
Marcia,  your  mother  could  not  have  a  more 
brisk  and  businesslike  assistant.  Ye  have  a  way 
of  workin',  lass,  that  pleases  me." 

But  even  at  the  door  he  turned  back,  resting 
his  hand  again  upon  Mother  Letty's  shoulder. 

'  Ye're  quite  sure  ye  dinna  feel  ill,  eh, 
Letty? "  he  queried  anxiously,  looking  down  at 
the  tired  winsome  face  beneath  the  whitening 


Chapter  Twenty-Eight          269 

hair.  "  I  would  not  have  ye  down  and  out, 
dear  lass,  for  anything  in  the  world  I  could  do 
to  stop  it." 

"Quite  sure!"  said  Mrs.  Weston  but  she 
brushed  her  hair  back  with  a  weariful  little 
gesture  that  the  Doctor  long  remembered. 

Letty's  customers  were  of  absorbing  interest 
to  the  Doctor.  Men,  bristling  with  that  super- 
stition with  which  the  street  is  rife,  came  to  her 
with  the  whim  that  the  Goddess  of  Chance  was 
a  woman  and  therefore  this  quiet  little  woman 
in  severely  tailored  black  would  bring  them 
luck;  women,  unreasoning  and  reckless;  and, 
bulwarking  the  transient  trade,  an  older,  more 
conservative  line  of  men  who  had  known  and 
revered  David  Manning,  her  father,  and  remem- 
bered his  daughter. 

"A  wonderful,  wonderful  little  woman!" 
reflected  the  Doctor  with  pride  as  he  threaded 
his  way  through  the  outer  office,  "  efficient, 
energetic,  tireless  in  her  business  life,  but  I  canna 
for  the  life  of  me  reconcile  her  as  I  have  seen 
her  to-day  with  the  self-effacin',  back-pattin', 
colorless  slave  of  Rodney's  caprices  that  she  is 
in  her  home.  Like  Davy,  she  has  a  dual  person- 
ality. Now  for  my  lecture,  deil  take  it !  I  dinna 
think  I  would  mind  so  much  if  I  did  not  have 
to  converse  in  such  fussy,  careful  English." 


270  The  Lovable  Meddler 

He  frowned  at  a  twinge  of  conscience. 

"  Indiscreet,  doubtless,  Roderick  Glenmuir, 
but  I  think  I  understood  ye  to  say  that  ye  dinna 
care.  Hum.  ...  I  dinna  blame  ye.  .  .  . 
Ye  knew  well  enough  before  ye  spoke  that  'twas 
indiscreet.  Aweel,  I  dinna  doubt  that  to  such 
a  canny  business  body  as  Letty  such  a  bit  of 
information  may  have  verra  valuable  possibilities, 
though  myself  I  canna  see  verra  great  signif- 
icance save  incipient  apoplexy  in  the  man's  fit 
and  his  bletherin'.  Doubtless  a  body  versed  in 
the  ways  of  bulls  and  bears  and  bellwethers  and 
the  other  members  of  the  menagerie,  values 
many  a  thing  of  seemin'  unimportance  to  the 
layman."  And  the  Doctor  dismissed  the  trivial 
incident  from  his  mind  —  not  to  recall  it  in 
full  again  until  another  eventful  winter  had 
winged  its  stormy  way  over  Auburnia  and  his 
roses  were  nodding  again. 

But  his  careless  suspicion  had  hit  the  mark. 
To  one  versed  in  the  sign-lore  of  the  street  and 
the  history  of  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron,  Willis 
Harvey's  fit  of  fury  was  not  without  signifi- 
cance. .  .  .  And  no  one  outside  knew  — 
none  save  an  indiscreet  Scot  who  was  lecturing 
brilliantly  at  St.  Jerome's,  and  a  tired  little 
business  woman  scanning  rows  of  figures. 

"  It  must  be  that,"  she  was  saying  over  and 


Chapter  Twenty-Eight          271 

over  again  to  herself.  "  It  must  be  that!  And 
yet  —  and  yet  —  " 

With  a  glance  at  Marcia,  typewriting  by  the 
window,  Mrs.  Weston  unlocked  a  drawer  beside 
her  and  reread  the  curt  notification  that  had 
spelled  for  her  two  sleepless  nights  of  secret 
agony  and  dismay. 

It  was  from  the  heirs  of  one  Robert  Colfax, 
Rodney's  benefactor  in  those  dark  days  when 
financial  disaster  had  followed  in  the  wake  of 
his  visionary  scheming  —  when  Rodney,  deli- 
cately reminding  Mr.  Colfax  of  intimate  college 
favors  to  the  wild  and  only  son  who  had  died  in 
his  youth,  had  claimed  from  the  bitter  old  man 
a  heavy  reimbursement. 

And  now,  with  the  old  financier  scarcely  in 
his  grave,  his  heirs  were  refusing  the  customary 
renewal  of  the  note  which  year  by  year  had 
borne  the  Westons  onward  to  repayment. 

"  Marcia,  will  you  make  me  a  statement,  dear, 
of  just  where  we  stand  on  the  Colfax  loan? " 

"  Right  here,  mother,"  said  Marcia.  "  You 
asked  me  to  make  it  for  you  yesterday. 
Remember  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure!  I  had  forgotten." 
Mrs.  Weston  touched  her  forehead  again  with 
a  gesture  of  distress  and  stared  at  the  figures 
before  her. 


272          The  Lovable  Meddler 

Thirty  thousand  dollars!  How  little  it  had 
seemed  then  in  the  disastrous  melee  and  how 
gigantic  it  had  been  destined  to  loom  as  the 
years  went  by,  sinking  with  unbelievable  slow- 
ness for  all  the  heavy  toll  paid  year  by  year! 

'  Twenty-one  thousand  more  with  interest  to 
pay,"  said  Marcia  briskly.  "  And  with  the 
thirty-four  hundred  we've  saved  this  year  that 
takes  it  down  to  seventeen  thousand,  six  hun- 
dred. Wasn't  it  bully,  mother,  that  we  were 
able  to  save  so  much?  It's  been  the  banner 
year,  with  the  twins  helping  and  Rose  surprising 
us  all  with  her  splendid  contribution.  How  in 
the  world  did  she  manage  to  save  so  much!" 
Twenty-one  thousand  dollars!  How  lightly 
the  girl  had  spoken,  secure  in  the  hope  of 
renewal.  .  .  .  But  Marcia  did  not  know. 
.  Who  was  there  like  Robert  Colfax  to 
take  such  a  note  without  collateral? 
And  there  were  only  ten  days  more! 
Mrs.  Weston  tensed  her  hands  and  sat  motion- 
less, carefully,  keenly  thinking  it  all  out  as 
perforce  she  must.  ...  A  wave  of  sickness 

swept  her  into  courage. 

##**###* 

To  Scanlon,  junior  member  of  the  firm  of 
Griggs  and  Scanlon,  came  that  rainy  afternoon 
an  unknown  buyer. 


Chapter  Twenty-Eight          273 

"  Seventeen  hundred  shares  of  Alabama  Coal 
and  Iron  I"  repeated  Scanlon,  concealing  sur- 
prise. But  he  glanced  at  the  buyer. 

Unlike  many  of  her  sex  and  errand,  however, 
his  chance  customer  seemed  definitely  to  know 
her  own  mind  and  with  a  shrug  —  who  meddles 
with  "  hunches  "  ?  —  Scanlon  turned  back  to  his 
desk  and  counted  over  the  marginal  thirty-four 
hundred  dollars  in  bills  which  his  customer  prof- 
fered against  a  two-point  drop  in  her  stock, 
chatting  pleasantly  as  he  made  out  a  broker's 
receipt.  Considerably  interested,  he  watched 
her  depart,  for  oddly  enough,  save  a  name  and 
an  order,  this  quiet  buyer  of  Alabama  Coal  and 
Iron  had  not  uttered  a  word. 

Now  there  were  times  when  Scanlon  dupli- 
cated a  customer's  order  if  he  had  confidence 
in  the  buyer's  judgment,  but  to-day  he  merely 
reflected  that  women  did  singular  things. 

Straight  to  the  Exchange  the  telephone  car- 
ried the  order  for  seventeen  hundred  shares  of 
Alabama  Coal  and  Iron.  The  floor  member  of 
Scanlon's  firm  saw  his  number  glow  upon  the 
great  boards  at  the  side,  took  his  message, 
unaware  that  Fate  marched  at  his  heels,  and 
turned  back  toward  the  numbered  post  where 
Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  was  listed. 

"  Seventeen  hundred  shares  of  Alabama  Coal 


The  Lovable  Meddler 

and  Iron !  "  he  called  in  his  monotonous  voice. 
Almost  on  the  heels  of  his  words  a  brisk  little 
broker  answered: 
"Sold!" 


Chapter  29 
A  tale  of  ticker  and  tape  and  tears  and  trouble 


dull  monotony  of  rain  and  gloom  lin- 
gered  still  another  day.  At  half-past  two 
Marcia  glanced  at  the  street  where  the  rain  was 
beating  down  in  gusts,  and  slipped  into  her  rain- 
coat. At  the  door  she  turned  back  anxiously. 

"  Headache  any  worse,  Mother?  " 

"  No,  no,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Weston  with  an 
effort. 

"Sure?" 

"  It's  a  little  better  if  anything  just  now. 
Better  hurry,  Marcia.  I'd  like  to  have  those 
checks  deposited  to-night.'* 

Marcia's  face  cleared. 

"I'll  most  likely  be  a  little  late,  Mother; 
maybe  four  o'clock  or  so.  Dad  asked  me  to 
do  a  little  shopping  for  him  and  I'm  going 
up  town.  Mind?  " 

Mrs.  Weston  said  truthfully  that  she  did  not 
and  as  the  outer  door  closed,  she  rang  for  the 
office  boy. 

"  Teddy,"  she  said,  "  it's  duU  and  rainy.    I'll 

275 


276  The  Lovable  Meddler 

not  need  you  any  longer  this  afternoon.  Tell 
Miles  he  may  go,  too,  please.  I'd  like  to  have 
the  office  quite  to  myself." 

So  Teddy  and  Miles  departed  to  bowl  and 
quarrel  over  the  score.  Left  alone,  with  the 
office  quiet  save  for  the  occasional  sound  of 
voices  in  the  corridor  or  the  jingle  of  the  ele- 
vator bell,  Mrs.  Weston  drooped  her  head  for- 
ward upon  her  arms  with  a  shuddering  sigh  of 
relief.  For  somehow  it  had  seemed  that  she 
could  no  longer  bear  the  sound  of  voices  or 
the  eyes  of  Marcia  and  Teddy  and  Miles  with 
the  knowledge  that  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  had 
dropped  a  point  since  noon. 

Click!  Click!  Click!  went  the  ticker  in  the 
corner.  Swish!  Swish!  Swish!  the  swirling  rain 
against  the  office  windows.  How  dark  the  street 
outside  was  growing  and  how  sharp  and  ter- 
rible this  new  pain  that  throbbed  through  her 
head. 

Click!  Click!  .  .  .  Click!  Click!  The  Doc- 
tor was  right.  It  was  a  sound  to  get  upon  your 
nerves  at  last. 

Click!  Click!  Click!  Harvey's  illness  then  had 
been  meaningless  and  the  doctor's  careless  tip 
a  cul-de-sac.  .  .  .  And  the  Coif  ax  loan? 

Shaking  pitifully,  Mrs.  Weston  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 


Chapter  Twenty-Nine  277 

"Oh,  God!"  she  moaned,  "I  can  not  look 
again ! " 

Sobbing  in  agony  and  fear  she  fell  upon  her 
knees,  praying  in  an  incoherent  murmur. 

"  Oh,  God,"  she  whispered,  "  it  is  so  little  — 
so  little  to  ask  here  where  men  fight  and  play 
with  millions  —  and  if  I  lose  there  is  no  way  out 

—  no  way  —  " 

The  chill  was  gone  now.  .  .  .  Her  face 
seemed  very  hot  and  dry  .  .  .  her  throat 
parched.  .  .  .  Click!  Click!  Click!  .  .  . 
Why  was  the  office,  the  desk-light,  the  rain- 
dotted  windows  so  blurred?  .  .  .  And  where 

—  where  was  Marcia? 

Click!    Click!     .     .     .     Click!    Click     .     .     . 
It  was  beating  its  way  into  her  brain.     . 
Stumbling    across    the    room,    Mrs.     Weston 
glanced  in  terror  at  the  blur  of  tape,  staggered 
and  fell  forward  upon  the  floor  with  a  sob. 

The  clock  above  the  mantel  struck  three, 
half-past  and  four  but  still  the  huddled  figure 
by  the  ticker  did  not  stir.  Lights  flashed  up 
through  the  dark  and  rain  and  at  quarter  after 
four,  cheeks  wet  and  rosy  with  the  cold,  came 
Marcia,  mystified  at  the  unaccustomed  darkness 
in  the  outer  office. 

But  the  inner  office  too  was  very  quiet  and 
Marcia's  puzzled  eyes  wandered  slowly  from 


278  The  Lovable  Meddler 

the  deserted  desk  with  its  droplight  burning 
brightly,  to  a  shadow  by  the  ticker.  Then  with 
a  spring  she  was  on  her  knees  beside  a  tangled 
mass  of  tape,  chafing  her  mother's  cold  white 
hands  in  terror. 

With  a  shudder  of  fear  she  counted  the  pulse 

—  it  seemed  but  a  feeble  flutter  of  uncertain 
life  —  brushed  the  soft,  white  hair  back  from  the 
pretty  pallid  face  and  began  to  cry,  passionately 
reproaching  herself  again  and  again  for  ignoring 
those  ominous  signs  of  failing  health  crowding 
so  vividly  before  her  now. 

"Oh,  Mother,  Mother!"  cried  the  girl  with 
a  sob  of  remorse,  "  why  did  we  not  guess !  Why 
did  we  not  guess !  " 

But  Marcia  was  eminently  cool-headed  and 
sensible  in  times  of  stress  and  courageously  wip- 
ing her  eyes  and  biting  her  lips,  she  was  soon 
at  the  phone,  calling  in  swift  succession  a  doctor, 
a  limousine  to  wait  at  the  curb,  Sonia's  office  on 
Fourth  Avenue  and  the  Hame  o'  Roses. 

"  If  you  will  be  at  the  house,  Doctor  Rod- 
erick," she  said  tremulously,  dangerously  close 
to  breaking  down  as  the  Doctor's  kindly  voice 
came  over  the  wire,  keen  with  sympathy,  "  and 

—  and  if  you  will  tell  Rose  without  frightening 
her,  so  that  Mother's  bed  may  be  ready  in  case 
the  doctor  says  I  may  bring  her  home.     . 


Chapter  Twenty-Nine  279 

Yes,  I  will  have  a  limousine  waiting. 
If  I  can  not  bring  her  home  I  will  phone  you 
again.     And,  Oh,  Doctor  Roderick,  be  careful 
how  you  tell  poor  Dad.    He's  nervous  and  upset 
over  the  election  —  " 

And  Marcia,  practical  until  the  bulk  of  her 
test  was  over,  dropped  the  receiver  and  stared 
out  through  a  mist  of  tears  at  the  brilliant  city 
of  rain-glisten  and  lights  outlined  beyond  the 
window. 

"  Oh,  Mother,"  she  whispered,  "  life  is  very 
hard." 


Chapter  30 

Of  a  limousine  and  an  alpenstock,  with  inci- 
dental mention  of  a  crucible  of  suffering 

Oil,  Agnes,  lass,"  said  the  weary  Doctor, 
homing  at  dawn  from  the  Westons,  "  'twas 
verra  hard  to  tell  my  poor  Leddy  Rose  about 
her  mother.  I  will  not  forget  it  this  many  a  day. 
She  did  not  cry  out,  mind  ye,  or  anything,  just 
listened  so  quiet  and  queer  that  I  was  fair 
upset.  And  then,  holdin'  the  veins  of  her  throat 
with  her  hand,  she  turned  upon  me,  her  pretty 
face  so  white  and  her  sweet  brown  eyes  so  brave 
and  yet  so  mortal  tragic  that  I  just  could  not 
meet  them  without  a  chokin'  in  my  throat. 

"  '  It  is  what  I  have  been  fearing  for  days/ 
she  said  quietly.  '  I  begged  her  to  rest  and  not 
to  worry/  And  then,  Agnes,  she  was  off,  sum- 
monin'  Lisbeth  and  workin'  away  about  her 
mother's  room  so  silent  and  tireless,  with  her 
throat  throbbin'  so  I  could  not  help  seein'.  And 
meetin'  my  eyes  now  and  again  with  a  brave 
little  smile  that  I  just  could  not  stand  —  it  was 
so  mortal  pathetic. 

"  And  by  and  by,  after  a  wait  so  long   I 

280 


Chapter  Thirty  281 

myself  had  begun  to  fidget,  comes  the  sound  of 
the  limousine  chuggin'  outside  and  straightway 
so  swift  and  quiet  ye  would  not  believe,  Mother 
Rose  is  out  upon  the  porch  in  the  rain,  almost 
before  I  myself  knew  that  Marcia  was  there  at 
last  with  her  mother,  callin'  out  to  me  to  come 
to  her. 

'Twas  a  brave  thing  the  lass  did,"  said  the 
Doctor  shaking  his  head,  "  bringin'  her  mother 
home  through  the  dark  and  rain  so  fearless. 
But  had  she  not  brought  her  home  to-night,  it 
would  have  been  many  and  many  a  week  before 
she  could  have  come  and  maybe  not  at  all.  The 
doctor  in  New  York  told  the  lass  as  much  him- 
self, advisin'  home  with  all  possible  speed.  It 
was  a  long,  dark,  lonely  ride  over  rainy  country 
roads,  for  she  could  not  get  Sonia  on  the  wire 
to  come  with  her,  and  all  the  way,  ever  since 
the  doctor  had  fetched  Letty  back  to  speakin' 
a  little  in  the  office,  she  had  been  out  of  her 
head,  starin'  and  babblin'  incoherent,  and  by 
the  time  the  car  rolled  up  to  the  house,  she  was 
unconscious  again.  I  had  to  take  her  out  of 
the  car  in  my  arms  and  carry  her  to  the  house. 
So  thin  and  slight  she  was,  Agnes,  that  it 
seemed  but  the  liftin'  of  a  bairn,  poor,  brave 
little  woman! 

"  And  Marcia  —  ye  would  not  believe  a  young 


282  The  Lovable  Meddler 

lass  could  be  so  brave  and  so  cool  and  sane. 
White-faced  and  scared  as  she  was,  she  fell  to 
orderin'  us  all  about,  havin'  planned  it  all  on  the 
way  home,  and  maybe  ye  would  not  believe  it, 
Agnes,  but  all  the  way  out  she  had  held  her 
mother  in  her  arms,  stormin'  and  beggin'  the 
poor  chauffeur  to  go  faster  —  faster  if  he  would 
earn  double  his  fee. 

"  God  help  me,  Agnes,  I  canna  see  where  it 
will  end.  In  all  my  years  as  a  physician  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  complete  and  terrible  break- 
down. I  did  not  tell  Mother  Rose  —  God  knows 
the  dear  lass  has  enough  now !  —  but  there  may 
be  pneumonia  along  with  the  brain  fever  and 
maybe  typhoid.  May  the  guid  God  help  the 
brave  little  woman  weather  the  gale.  It  would 
seem  beyond  the  power  of  mortal." 

"  And  Rodney?  "  Mrs.  Glenmuir's  face  asked 
many  things. 

The  Doctor's  face  flamed  into  terrible  anger. 

"  Agnes,"  he  said,  "  I  canna  verra  well  speak 
of  him.  Just  as  we  had  calmed  the  house  down, 
he  came  in,  doubtless  from  some  fancy  election- 
eerin*  and  I  myself  came  down  to  break  the  news 
to  him  as  I  had  promised  Marcia.  And,  Agnes, 
he  struck  his  chest  with  a  wild  thump  and  threw 
back  his  head  like  a  stage  man,  mutterin'  some- 
thing, if  ye  would  believe  it,  about  '  a  crucible 


Chapter  Thirty  283 

of  sufferin'  through  which  every  genius  must 
pass  to  perfect  his  art.'  I  dinna  suppose  that 
in  the  first  shock  of  it  the  man  fully  realized 
the  terrible  gravity  of  it  all  but,  Agnes,  it  made 
me  so  fearful  mad  to  think  he  would  enjoy  his 
own  actin'  at  such  a  time  and  drag  in  his  art, 
that  I  lost  my  head  entirely  and  straightway 
I  closed  the  studio  door  and  fell  to  thunderin' 
at  him  fearful,  tellin'  him  flat  that  'twas  the 
crucible  of  sufferin'  through  which  the  wife  of 
so-called  genius  must  pass  and  that  he  richly 
deserved  anything  of  sufferin'  that  came  to 
him  on  the  side.  And  I  might  have  said  a  guid 
deal  more,  for  I  was  thinkin'  verra  swift  and 
certain,  had  not  the  Leddy  Rose  come  down  to 
tell  me  that  she  and  she  alone  would  nurse  her 
mother.  And  though  I  stormed  a  bit,  thinkin' 
it  of  course  but  so  much  more  work  for  the  poor 
lass,  I  could  not  help  rememberin'  the  wonderful 
way  she  nursed  her  father  through  pneumonia, 
just  as  efficient  as  any  nurse  with  training. 
Lookin'  at  her  wistful  eyes,  I  could  not  say  her 
nay.  Oh,  my  poor  Leddy  Rose  1 "  And  the 
Doctor  choked. 

"  Agnes,"  he  finished,  rubbing  his  chin  in 
defiance,  "  ye  doubtless  will  tell  me  that  I  am 
fearful  meddlesome  and  have  taken  too  much 
upon  myself;  and  doubtless  I  have;  but  homin* 


284  The  Lovable  Meddler 

just  now  with  the  memory  of  that  house  of 
trouble  so  fresh  in  my  mind,  I  sent  a  night 
telegram  to  Aunt  Ann  Weston  beggin'  her  in 
the  name  of  our  grand  guid  friendship  to  come 
at  once  —  that  her  brother's  house  needs  some 
such  practical,  brisk  person  to  make  my  poor 
lass's  burden  a  little  lighter.  And  if  Ann  isn't 
off  in  some  heathenish  country  climbin'  another 
mountain  with  her  alpenstock  and  a  string  of 
guides,  I  know  well  enough  she  will  come 
straightway;  for  Rose  is  the  verra  apple  of  her 
eye  and  she  is  mortal  fond  of  Letty  and  the 
other  lasses  too,  for  all  she  does  not  come  to 
Auburnia  frequent." 

"  That,"  said  Mrs.  Glenmuir  gently,  "  was 
very  meddlesome  indeed  but  I  doubt  if  you 
could  have  done  a  wiser  thing." 

The  tired  Doctor  beamed. 

"  Oh,  Agnes,  lass,"  he  exclaimed,  intensely 
gratified,  "  when  I  do  accomplish  anything  wise 
and  sensible,  I'm  a  verra  proud  man! " 

So  it  was  that  the  Doctor's  telegram,  coming 
to  its  goal  at  Lenox,  Massachusetts,  with  the 
sunrise,  brought  aid  to  Mother  Rose  in  the  form 
of  Aunt  Ann  Weston,  a  handsome,  self-reliant 
spinster  of  cosmopolitan  tastes  who  climbed  the 
mountains  of  the  globe  for  pastime,  return- 
ing betimes  to  the  comfortable  old  farmhouse 


Chapter  Thirty  285 

she  maintained  for  infrequent  seizures  of 
domesticity. 

The  most  startling  things  about  Aunt  Ann 
were  her  battered  alpenstock  and  her  eye- 
glasses, for  the  one  went  forth  in  her  hand 
wherever  she  went  and  the  other,  by  reason 
of  a  fatal  facility  for  mislaying  them  in  time 
of  need,  she  purchased  at  five  and  ten  cent 
stores  by  the  gross,  scattered  them  about  in 
unexpected  places  and  thus  was  most  con- 
veniently enabled  to  put  forth  an  excursive  hand 
at  any  time  and  find  a  pair  of  glasses. 

Said  Aunt  Ann  to  her  ponderous  housekeeper 
as  she  picked  up  the  Doctor's  telegram  at  break- 
fast, extended  a  large,  strong,  graceful  hand 
to  the  fern  dish  and  unearthed  a  pair  of 
glasses : 

"  Mrs.  Yagel,  you  will  kindly  adjust  your 
ear  trumpet  and  give  me  your  entire  attention. 
Thank  you.  ...  I  wish  to  say  that 
it's  very  fortunate  indeed  that  I'm  at  home. 
I've  been  thinking  some  of  Chim- 
borazo.  I  leave  in  an  hour  for  my  brother's 
home  in  Auburnia.  Au-bur-nia,"  she  repeated 
and  followed  Mrs.  Yagel's  significant  glance  at 
the  alpenstock  in  the  corner.  "  No,  Mrs.  Yagel, 
it  is  not  another  mountain.  Though  it  may  and 
doubtless  will  prove  worse,  it  is  not  another 


286          The  Lovable  Meddler 

mountain.  And  now  if  you  will  kindly  ask 
Joe  to  curtail  his  usual  hour  of  operatic 
whistling  and  bird  imitations  and  saddle  Peter 
Botte,  I  will  take  my  usual  farewell  survey 
of  the  farm.  While  I  am  gone  I  would  be 
greatly  obliged  if  Joe  would  have  the  carriage 
ready  to  take  me  to  the  station,  bring  down  my 
luggage  —  it  is  in  readiness  as  usual  —  and 
place  it  beside  my  alpenstock  in  the  hall.  I  may 
be  back  in  a  week  or  a  month  and  I  may  not 
be  back  in  a  year  but  that  of  course  is  in  no 
way  different  from  any  other  absence  of  mine. 
Any  time  I  come  home,  however,  I  expect  to 
find  the  house  in  order,  Aunt  Judith's  blue 
china  on  the  table  here  and  the  silver  teapot 
shining  brightly  as  usual." 

And  thus  it  was  that  an  hour  later,  with  her 
alpenstock  in  her  hand  and  a  gross  of  glasses 
among  her  luggage,  Aunt  Ann  set  briskly  out 
for  Auburnia  —  eventually  to  gather  Rose  up 
in  her  arms,  wipe  away  the  first  tears  that  the 
tireless  nurse  had  shed,  and  thereafter  to 
assume  complete  control  of  her  brother's  dis- 
organized home. 


Chapter  31 

How  Aunt  Ann  settled  the  Coif  ax  loan  and 

how  the  fuming  Doctor  disburdened 

his  mind 

BY  DAY  and  by  night  now  Peggy  drowsed 
by  the  Weston  gate,  serenely  unaware  of 
the  heartbreaking  fear  and  sorrow  beyond  the 
checkerpaned  windows.  For  the  Gunnigan 
editorial  with  its  bitter  aftermath  of  notoriety, 
the  Colfax  loan  and  the  unceasing  strain  of 
overwork  and  worry,  had  done  their  grim, 
unholy  work  with  terrible  completeness. 
Though  Rose  and  the  Doctor  tirelessly  fought 
the  Shadow,  day  by  day  it  seemed  to  glide 
with  sable  pinions  closer  to  the  bed  where 
Mother  Letty  tossed  in  wild  delirium. 

Rodney  alone,  dazed  and  curiously  aggrieved 
of  manner,  seemed  not  fully  to  comprehend  the 
seriousness  of  the  battle. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  Ann,"  he  said,  "  things  are 
nothing  like  so  bad  as  Roderick  would  have 
us  believe.  He's  a  confirmed  pessimist.  Myself, 
I  avoid  him.  He's  offensively  personal  at  times 
and  sticks  his  chin  out  at  me  so  aggressively  of 
late  whenever  I  happen  across  him  that  I  never 

£87 


288          The  Lovable  Meddler 

feel  quite  sure  what  he's  going  to  say.  For  a 
physician,  Roderick,  I  must  say,  has  a  singu- 
larly indelicate  disregard  of  nerves  and  the 
other  temperamental  niceties  of  refinement." 

"Bosh!"  said  Aunt  Ann  and  shrugged  her 
broad  full  shoulders.  Such  a  fatal  optimism, 
she  reflected,  had  been  a  potent  factor  in  the 
calamitous  disappearance  of  her  brother's 
patrimony. 

There  came  a  night  when  Marcia,  arriving 
home  from  her  mother's  office  with  a  sheaf  of 
papers  in  her  hand,  looked  so  pale  and  worried 
that  Aunt  Ann,  who  met  every  one  in  the  hall 
at  night  with  a  smile  and  cheerful  hand-pat, 
raised  the  girl's  chin  with  gentle  hand  and 
stared  long  and  questioningly  into  her  troubled 
eyes. 

"  Mother?  "  asked  Marcia  and  looked  away. 

"  About  the  same,  dear.  What  else,  Marcia? 
Something  else  has  gone  wrong,  hasn't  it?" 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Ann!  "  cried  Marcia  desperately, 
"  it's  the  Coif  ax  loan.  I  found  the  letter 
to-day." 

Now  Aunt  Ann  knew  absolutely  nothing 
about  the  Colfax  loan  but  her  customary  policy 
was  to  find  out  all  she  could  by  herself  and 
ask  questions  afterward,  wherefore  she  promptly 
plunged  her  hand  into  the  umbrella  stand  beside 


Chapter  Thirty-One  289 

her,  brought  forth  a  pair  of  glasses  and 
examined  the  sheaf  of  papers  with  a  frown. 
Perusal  was  sufficient. 

"  These,"  she  said,  moving  briskly  toward 
the  door,  "  I  shall  lay  before  your  father.  The 
original  loan,  I  see,  was  made  to  him." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  begged  Marcia  wildly. 
'  We  never  bother  him  with  things  like  that." 

Aunt  Ann  raised  her  finely  arched  eyebrows. 

"  It's  time  you  did,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Ann,  please  don't ! "  Marcia's 
voice  rang  with  tragedy  but  Aunt  Ann  was 
already  on  her  way  to  the  studio,  rustling  calmly 
on  to  heresy. 

"  Rodney,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  I  find  here  a 
statement  of  the  Colfax  loan,  thirty  thousand 
dollars  at  six  per  cent,  of  which  fourteen  thou- 
sand and  interest  has  been  paid  back  by  Letty 
at  the  rate  of  two  thousand  a  year,  leaving  a 
balance  of  sixteen  thousand  which  with  interest 
to  date,  aggregates  twenty-one  thousand,  due 
day  after  to-morrow.  The  Colfax  heirs  refuse 
a  renewal  of  the  yearly  note." 

Rodney  stared  helplessly  at  his  sister. 

"  Oh,  Ann,"  said  he  petulantly,  "  why  do  you 
always  reduce  your  conversation  to  such  —  er  — 
concentrated  facts  and  the  fewest  possible  words  ? 
It's  so  difficult  to  follow  you." 


290  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Bosh!  "  said  Aunt  Ann.  "  What  about  the 
loan? " 

"  If  you  will  kindly  repeat  your  list  of 
figures  again  slowly,"  said  Rodney  with  dignity, 
*'  I  will  doubtless  come  to  some  definite  com- 
prehension of  your  meaning.  As  it  is  I  might 
just  as  well  remind  you,  Ann,  and  perhaps  save 
you  the  trouble  of  going  over  your  arithmetical 
announcement,  that  I  have  very  little  head  for 
figures  and  sordid  things  of  that  sort. 
They  excite  me.  They  always  have  and 
just  now  with  Letty  so  ill  and  the  election 
approaching  —  " 

"  I  mean,"  said  Aunt  Ann  bluntly,  "  that 
you're  pledged  to  pay  twenty-one  thousand 
dollars  to  the  Colfax  heirs  day  after  to-morrow. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? " 

Rodney  rose. 

'  You  can't  possibly  mean,"  he  said,  "  that 
the  Colfax  heirs  are  vulgarly  pressing  us  about 
that  ridiculous  loan  in  such  a  time  as  this  — 
such  a  time  as  this,  I  say,  when  even  the 
telephone  operator  gives  the  bell  but  the  merest 
tinkle.  It  seems  incredible.  What  with  Letty 
ill  and  my  time  so  crowded  that  I've  scarcely 
time  to  think,  and  after  all  the  money  I 
advanced  to  Bob  Colfax  in  college  days  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  most  infamous  scrapes!  No,  no, 


Chapter  Thirty-One  291 

Ann,  I  can't  believe  it,  I  can't  believe  it!  It's 
too  vulgarly  commercial  to  be  true." 
'  Where  will  you  get  the  money? " 
"  I  shan't  get  it,"  said  Rodney  flatly.  "  I'm 
so  nervous  now  that  I  can't  sleep  and  if  I  go  to 
filling  my  head  with  loans  and  lawyers  and 
papers  and  figures  and  things  and  overtax 
myself,  I'll  like  as  not  be  down  in  bed  too. 
And  certainly  the  demands  of  my  home  are 
sufficiently  exigent  at  present  to  need  me  in 
health.  Let  the  Coif  ax  heirs,"  he  finished 
elaborately,  "wait.  Let  them,  I  say,  wait  I 
Something,"  with  a  Micawberish  flash  of  opti- 
mism, "  will  undoubtedly  happen." 

"  Something,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  undoubtedly 
would  if  I  did  not  think  enough  of  Letty  and 
the  girls  to  ward  it  off.  Doubtless  I  am  making 
a  great  mistake;  I  ought  to  let  you  get  out 
with  the  vulgar  herd  and  hustle  for  the  money 
or  get  sordidly  and  commercially  sued.  But 
there's  trouble  enough  in  the  house  now.  For 
Letty's  sake,  and  by  way  of  some  reparation 
for  what  she's  suffered  through  our  family,  for 
she  comes  of  a  remarkably  sane  and  decent  one 
herself,  I'll  pay  the  twenty-one  thousand.  You 
needn't  thank  me.  I'm  not  in  a  receptive  mood. 
Thank  Heaven  instead  that  I  didn't  squander 
my  money  as  you  did  yours." 


292          The  Lovable  Meddler 

And  so  Aunt  Ann  sallied  forth  with  alpen- 
stock in  hand  and  interviewed  the  Colfax  heirs. 

Now  it  soon  became  apparent  to  Aunt  Ann 
and  the  Doctor  that  Rodney  felt  himself  some- 
what sanctified  by  the  distinction  of  a  sorrow. 
To  the  outraged  Doctor,  who  watched  him 
patrol  the  driveway  one  afternoon  with  his  head 
bowed  wearily  upon  his  chest  in  picturesque 
melancholy,  his  hands  clasped  loosely  behind 
him,  it  was  the  final  straw.  At  sunset  after  a 
whispered  consultation  with  Aunt  Ann  he 
betook  himself  once  more  to  Rodney's  studio. 

"  I  might  just  as  well  tell  ye,"  he  began 
curtly,  "  that  I  do  not  care  for  the  conceited 
way  ye're  bolsterin'  your  vanity  with  stage 
pictures  of  yourself  in  the  role  of  a  sufferin' 
husband.  Ye  have  done  enough  harm  now 
merely  by  existin',  without  addin'  a  touch  of 
comedy  to  the  terrible  tragedy  of  poor  Letty's 
illness." 

"I  —  I  don't  know  —  what  you  mean," 
stammered  Rodney,  coloring  with  annoyance. 

"  Well,"  snapped  the  Doctor,  "  ye  will  know 
straightway.  For  now  I  have  begun  I  will  not 
stop  until  I  have  had  my  say.  For  years  I 
have  held  back,  watchin'  ye  steer  your  family 
to  perdition.  Now,  if  I  do  not  rid  myself  of 
my  opinions,  I  will  doubtless  burst  with  fury! 


Chapter  Thirty-One  293 

Canna  ye  get  outside  of  yourself  long  enough 
to  see  that  it  is  yourself  alone  has  brought  poor 
Letty  down  to  the  door  of  death  itself?  Have 
ye  not  ruined  lives  enough  without  feedin'  your 
self-importance  so  complacently  upon  the  fruits 
of  your  selfish  doings? 

"  Great  God,  man,"  thundered  the  Doctor, 
breaking  loose  again  with  unexpected  velocity, 
"  where  are  your  eyes,  your  heart,  your  brain, 
your  feelings,  that  ye  canna  correct  your 
egotistical  angle  of  vision.  '  Conceited  gowk, 
puffed  up  wi'  windy  pride ! '  Ye  have  well 
nigh  ruined  the  life  of  poor  Leddy  Rose  by 
chainin*  her  to  the  plough  and  turnin'  Letty 
out  to  support  ye  in  idleness  after  bearin'  more 
bairns  than  her  frail  body  could  stand,  while  ye 
dabble  with  your  daffy  art  and  nurse  your 
daffier  nerves,  bletherin'  along  about  tempera- 
ment and  such  things!  Ye  need  not  make  such 
stately  passes  at  me,  because  I  will  not  stop. 
Ye  have  sent  my  poor  Larry  into  exile  with  a 
scaldin'  heart  torn  for  love  of  Mother  Rose,  who 
canna  leave  her  father's  house.  Ye  have  ruined 
the  lives  of  all  your  daughters,  for  they  could 
not  desert  Mother  Rose  with  such  a  freakish 
condition  of  things  at  home  —  God  bless  the 
loyal  lasses!  And  ye  have  plunged  the  braw 
lads  of  the  Music  Box  and  the  Cave  into  mortal 


294  The  Lovable  Meddler 

misery  and  gloom  by  chainin'  your  womenfolk 
to  your  side. 

"  And  ye  canna  paint !  Look  at  the  chromos 
about  the  studio  with  honest  eyes  and  ye  will 
know  the  truth  yourself.  Myself  I  would  not 
trust  ye  with  the  side  of  a  decent  house.  As  for 
your  nerves  with  which  ye  excuse  your  fiendish 
failin's,  ye 're  a  guid  sight  healthier  and  nothing 
like  so  nervous  as  poor  Letty  has  been.  Where 
are  your  ears,"  raved  the  Doctor,  "  that  ye  have 
not  heard  the  roar  of  laughter  at  your  fancy 
politicianin'  with  your  Norfolk  suit  and  your  big 
talk,  written,  I  daresay,  by  Mother  Rose's  busy 
fingers?  Could  ye  not  see  that  the  Gunnigan 
editorial,  for  all  its  brutality,  was  true  and 
that  men  stared  askance  at  ye  when  ye  passed 
by  until  Reddy  so  handsomely  retracted?  Could 
ye  not  see  that  Letty  was  worryin'  over  that 
and  the  loan  and  many  another  ugly  thing  that 
has  come  to  her  through  your  shirkin'  of  a  man's 
first  duty?  *  But  far  off  fowls  ha'e  feathers 
fine ! '  and  so  all  these  ugly,  naked  truths  with 
which  I  am  vulgarly  batterin'  at  your  sensitive 
artistic  soul,  ye  doubtless  keep  afar  off  from 
ye,  so  that  their  feathers  may  seem  fine  and 
sightly.  And  then  with  it  all  ye  stalk  up  and 
down  the  driveway  like  Hamlet,  glintin'  melan- 
choly at  Letty 's  windows  for  the  neighbors  to 


Chapter  Thirty-One  295 

see.  And  now  I  must  tell  ye  before  I  go  that 
if  Letty  lives  she  canna  go  back  to  brokerin' 
or  her  life  will  pay  the  penalty.  And  so  ye 
had  better  burn  your  chromos  and  forget  your 
nerves  and  try  to  imitate  a  man! " 

The  Doctor  seized  his  hat  and  stalked  away. 
At  the  door  he  wheeled. 

'  Will  ye  go  to  work,  man  Rodney? "  he 
thundered  unexpectedly. 

Rodney  drew  himself  magnificently  to  his  full 
height. 

"  Roderick,"  he  said  coldly,  "  when  you  have 
apologized  to  me  for  all  these  infamous 
insults  —  " 

"  When  I  apologize  to  you,  man  Rodney," 
shot  forth  the  Doctor  viciously,  "  I  will  be 
carryin'  allopathic  pills  in  my  medicine  case 
and  doctorin'  the  measles  with  absent  treatment." 

And  he  was  gone. 


Chapter  32 

In  which  Aunt  Ann  feels  called  upon  to  rant 

and  the  Doctor  in  a  dark  and  terrible 

hour  prays  for  guidance 

RODNEY,"  Aunt  Ann  opened  the  drawer 
of  the  studio  table,  drew  forth  a  pair  of 
glasses  and  regarded  her  brother  intently,   "  I 
understand  you  spoke  to  Marcia  last  night  about 
changing  doctors." 

"It  is  true,"  acknowledged  Rodney  wearily, 
"  that  in  my  anger,  I  did  broach  the  subject 
but  upon  maturer  reflection  I  have  decided  to 
ignore  Roderick's  unwarranted  outburst  and 
retain  his  services.  It  is  infinitely  more  digni- 
fied. He  is  subject  to  those  ranting  fits  and 
scarcely  accountable  when  they  seize  him. 
Moreover,  he  has  always  disliked  me.  Why, 
Ann,  last  summer  he  bolted  in  here  one  morn- 
ing—  it  was  the  morning  after  that  terrible 
storm  —  closed  the  studio  door  and  without 
one  single  iota  of  explanation  called  me  the 
most  abusive  names  in  involved  Scotch,  one 
right  after  the  other  as  if  they  were  being 
propelled  from  the  mouth  of  a  cannon.  I  could 

296 


Chapter  Thirty-Two  297 

not  even  hope  to  reproduce  the  terrible  malig- 
nancy of  his  voice.  And  then  he  bolted  away 
just  as  he  had  come,  leaving  me  upset  and 
utterly  mystified.  He  lacks  presence  and 
dignity  and  mental  balance.  As  I've  always 
said  to  Letty,  with  his  baggy  knees,  his  piebald 
mare,  his  wheezy  old  bagpipe,  his  collies  and  his 
roses  and  his  vernacular,  to  say  nothing  of  his 
slang,  he'd  be  more  at  home  jogging  around 
among  the  Scottish  farm-folk,  gossiping  shame- 
lessly with  the  old  wives  and  bouncing  the 
'  bairns  '  on  his  ill-fated  creases.  Nobody's  safe 
from  his  biting  tongue.  Simply  because  old 
Mrs.  Briscott,  his  wealthiest  patient,  mind  you, 
simply  I  say,  Ann,  because  she  called  him  back 
several  times  after  he  was  well  on  his  way 
down  the  stairs,  he  stuck  his  head  in  at  the  bed- 
room door  the  last  time  and  insulted  her! " 

"  Insulted  her! " 

"  I  have  the  quotation  right  here  in  a  book 
of  Burns.  I  looked  it  up  after  Mrs.  Briscott 
told  me."  And  he  read  impressively: 

"  Scenes  of  woe  and  scenes  of  pleasure, 
Scenes  that  former  thoughts  renew, 
Scenes  of  woe  and  scenes  of  pleasure 
Now  a  sad  and  last  adieu!  " 

"  Excellent!  "  chuckled  Ann. 


298  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  And  then,"  resumed  Rodney  with  dignity, 
"  the  very  night  Letty  was  brought  home  ill  —  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  feel  so  broad-minded  about 
retaining  him  professionally,"  interrupted  Aunt 
Ann  dryly,  "  for  your  wise  and  prudent 
daughters  agree  that  he  must  be  retained  at  any 
cost.  They  have  the  utmost  confidence  in  him 
and  justly.  And  your  daughters  are  likely 
to  pay  the  bill." 

"  Ann,"  said  Rodney,  "  you  will  oblige  me 
greatly  by  not  making  such  acrid  references  to 
my  art  prospects.  I've  suffered  enough." 

"Bosh!"  said  Aunt  Ann.  And  adjusting 
her  glasses,  she  glanced  squarely  at  her  brother, 
who  promptly  began  to  flutter  about  in  a  panic. 

"Oh,  Ann!"  he  stammered.  "Are  you 
going  to  rant  too? " 

"  Rodney,"  said  Aunt  Ann  with  considerable 
warmth,  "  things  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that 
I  feel  called  upon  to  rant.  It  seems  to  me, 
viewing  the  situation  here  without  prejudice, 
that  in  a  sense  you  are  the  unresisting  victim 
of  —  let  us  call  it  over-feminization.  Mother 
first  of  all  began  it  because  you  were  the  only 
male  in  the  house  and  she  was  a  widow  who  saw 
in  her  only  boy  the  features  of  an  idolized 
husband.  I  was  taught  to  kowtow  to  your 
superior  judgment  and  was  in  eternal  disgrace 


Chapter  Thirty-Two  299 

because  I  didn't.  You  always  got  the  prize 
lamb  chop  I  remember  and  the  tenderest  portion 
of  the  chicken  or  any  other  little  delicacy  we 
had,  and  mother  fluttered  about  you  as  if  you 
were  a  sultan  instead  of  a  very  ordinary  but 
good-looking  boy  who  was  rapidly  being  spoiled 
by  the  adulation  of  a  lot  of  silly,  lovesick  girls 
flocking  after  you  perpetually  because  your 
eyes  were  rather  fetching  and  your  shoulders 
broad. 

"  And  then,  before  you  could  meet  good, 
solid  men  who  would  thrash  it  out  of  you, 
you  had  married  dear,  winsome,  clever  little 
Letty  Manning,  greatly  against  her  father's 
wishes,  too,  you  remember!  And  you  promptly 
ascended  another  domestic  throne  to  be  petted 
and  coddled  and  worshipped  all  over  again. 
Mind  I'm  not  blaming  Letty.  She's  a  peerless 
little  woman.  But  she  had  the  wrong  material 
to  work  with.  It  was  a  great  pity,  Rodney, 
that  you  never  had  to  work.  Your  life's  been 
too  sheltered  for  mental  health. 

"  Now,  motherhood,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  ignor- 
ing the  picturesque  martyrdom  of  Rodney's 
air,  "  motherhood,  I  say,  is  a  grand,  sacred 
function  but  its  one  fault  is  the  fact  that  it 
over-develops  a  woman's  inherent  tenderness 
and  makes  her  viewpoint  one  of  sentiment  alone. 


300  The  Lovable  Meddler 

So  Letty,  wonderful  wife  and  wonderful 
mother,  loved  you  and  condoned  your  faults, 
bore  your  handsome  babies  and  developed 
such  a  God-given  maternity  that  she  mothered 
you  along  with  the  rest.  Then  when  the 
financial  crash  came  you  were  too  vitiated  by  a 
life  of  indolence  and  ease  and  love  to  see  your 
chance.  And  once  more  by  a  most  unfortunate 
twist  of  Fate  for  one  of  your  temperament, 
you  were  the  only  man  in  a  flock  of  worshipful 
altruistic  gentlewomen  who,  smart  as  they  were, 
were  somehow  miraculously  blinded  by  your 
sex  and  your  magnetism  and  your  undeniable 
good  looks  to  the  fact  that  after  all  these  things 
which  held  them  were  purely  superficial.  You 
remind  me  of  a  great,  imposing  mountain  peak 
of  ice  and  snow  which  from  a  distance  appears 
to  be  very  promising  and  complicated  but  which 
ultimately  proves  to  be  largely  a  shallow, 
spectacular  sort  of  thing  of  flash  and  glitter 
easy  to  climb." 

"  Ann !  What  a  singular  comparison !  " 
"  Fate,"  proceeded  Aunt  Ann,  meeting  her 
brother's  eyes  which  shifted  and  fell,  "  Fate 
gave  you  a  wonderfully  smart  and  efficient 
little  woman  and  winsome,  clever  daughters; 
but  you've  rankly  abused  the  gift  and  your 
hold  upon  them  is  beginning  to  slip  away.  I 


Chapter  Thirty-Two  301 

can  see  that  myself.  Now  I  can't  pretend  to 
understand  how  you  came  to  drift  along  to 
such  selfish  destruction  of  everything  about 
you,  or  how  you  came  to  squander  Letty's 
patrimony  along  with  your  own.  You've 
accepted  incredible  sacrifices  from  your  wife 
and  daughters.  Even  the  house  you  live  in  is 
the  old  Manning  estate  and  the  money  you 
spend  Letty's,  but  I  have  this  much  to  say 
for  your  own  good  and  my  self-respect.  Some- 
where beneath  all  your  layers  of  affectation 
and  indolence  and  conceit  and  your  cherished 
delusions  about  yourself,  there  must  be  some 
remote  kernel  of  decency.  It  may  be  drawing 
its  last  breath,  but  it's  there,  I'm  sure,  for  you 
come  of  good  stuff.  It's  not  reasonable  or  fair 
to  suppose  that  such  a  splendid,  broad-minded 
man  as  Dad  and  such  an  intelligent  woman  as 
Mother,  for  all  her  mistaken  notions  of  rearing 
you,  could  beget  such  an  offspring  as  you  appear 
to  be.  Like  an  avalanche,  I  imagine,  you  began 
well  and  then  collected  things  all  the  way  down 
the  mountain  into  the  valley  of  selfish  sloth. 

"  And  the  very  first  step  to  take  in  order  to 
disinter  this  hidden,  gasping  kernel  of  decency," 
finished  Aunt  Ann,  "  is,  I  think,  to  admit  that 
you  can't  paint.  Then  get  a  job!  What's 
more,  I  don't  want  you  to  burst  into  a  shower 


302  The  Lovable  Meddler 

of  aggrieved  inanities  but  to  think  over  what 
I've  said.  Hunt  for  the  kernel,"  finished  Aunt 
Ann  at  the  door,  "  and  look  for  a  job! " 

Rodney  fell  back  weakly  in  his  chair. 

"A  'job'!"  he  murmured.  "I  can  not 
imagine  where  Ann  picks  up  such  vulgar 
words  .  .  .  but  Roderick,  of  course!" 

For  effects  of  this  siege,  Aunt  Ann  and  the 
Doctor  waited  in  vain.  Rodney  merely  with- 
drew into  a  shell  of  dignity  and  reserve  and 
cut  them  both. 

"  It  will  take  more  than  words  to  wake  him 
up,  Ann!  "  bitterly  confided  the  Doctor.  "  And 
I  think  I  know  well  enough  what  would  do 
the  trick.  But  somehow,  God  help  me!  for  all  I 
canna  abide  the  man,  I  dinna  wish  to  put  it 
to  the  test,  it  would  be  so  mortal  cruel.  And  yet 
if  poor  Letty  lives,  if  the  poor  lass  is  to  finish 
her  stormy  life  in  peace,  the  man  must  be  jolted 
outside  of  himself  no  matter  how  cruel  the 
means.  Oh,  Ann,  I  canna  see  how  such  a 
splendid  woman  as  yourself  came  to  have  such 
a  brother.  It  outrages  all  my  notions  of 
heredity.  Now  I  must  go  or  I  winna  quit 
bletherin'  about  him  this  hour  or  so.  One  thing 
I  would  impress  upon  ye.  Mother  Rose  must 
sleep  to-night  or  I  winna  answer  for  the  con- 
sequences. The  lass  is  near  the  end  of  her 


Chapter  Thirty-Two  303 

endurance  and  I've  told  her  so  myself.  I 
would  have  ye  see  that  she  goes  off  to  some 
verra  quiet  room  for  some  rest  —  early.  I  have 
left  her  a  powder  in  case,  as  she  says,  she  canna 
sleep.  Dear  Leddy  Ann,  'tis  mortal  guid  of 
ye  to  relieve  her  and  manage  your  brother's 
house  so  capable  and  mother  the  poor,  heart- 
sick lasses  as  if  ye  had  bairns  of  your  own. 
I'm  mortal  proud  of  ye." 

He  turned  back  at  the  door. 

"  Mind  ye,  Ann,  if  there  is  the  faintest  change 
in  Letty,  the  verra  faintest,  ye  must  send  for 
me  at  once  without  a  minute's  delay.  After 
eight  I  will  be  lecturin'  about  Bobby  Burns  to 
the  Caledonians  at  the  Club  House,  a  yearly 
fancy  of  theirs  from  which  I  canna  wean  them. 
But  for  that  I  would  not  go  home  at  all,  for 
I'm  fearin*  to-night  most  of  any." 


The  change  came,  a  difference  in  respiration 
barely  perceptible  to  Aunt  Ann  sitting  watch- 
fully by  the  bedside.  To  the  Doctor,  scarcely 
in  the  prologue  of  the  only  lecture  from  which 
he  did  not  have  to  delete  his  cherished  burr  and 
his  dialect,  the  news  came  by  phone  and  thence 
by  a  folded  slip  of  paper  to  the  platform. 

"  Guid  folk,"  he  said  simply,  "  I  know  well 


304          The  Lovable  Meddler 

ye  will  forgive  me  for  slippin'  away  so  soon. 
There  is  no  guid  Scotchman,  I  feel  verra  sure, 
who  would  have  me  sparklin'  about  Bobby 
Burns  when  a  life  lies  in  my  hands."  And  he 
was  off  through  the  door  and  climbing  into  his 
car  before  the  stir  had  died  away. 

With  a  nod  to  Aunt  Ann  as  he  entered  the 
sick  room  the  Doctor  bent  over  the  motionless 
figure  upon  the  bed,  his  face  so  stern  that 
for  all  her  fine  control  Aunt  Ann  trembled 
violently.  Swiftly,  quietly,  with  never  a  word, 
the  Doctor  tested  pulse  and  temperature,  the 
frowning  expression  upon  his  face  changing 
to  one  Aunt  Ann  could  not  fathom,  then  bend- 
ing closer,  he  listened  intently  to  the  muffled 
sounds  of  the  chest. 

"  Ann,"  he  said  abruptly,  avoiding  her  fright- 
ened eyes,  "  ye  are  about  to  trust  me  now  as 
ye  have  never  trusted  mortal  man  before.  I 
would  have  ye  send  Rodney  to  me  at  once,  mind 
ye,  with  all  possible  speed.  And  then  if  ye  will 
be  so  guid,  wait  patiently  below  until  I  come 
to  ye." 

Still  avoiding  Ann's  imploring  gaze  as  she 
hurried  away,  the  Doctor  walked  over  to 
the  window  and  stood  looking  out  upon  the 
leafless  trees  touched  with  the  cold  white  moon- 
light of  the  night.  Barely  an  instant  his 


Chapter  Thirty-Two  305 

look  was  one  of  indecision,  then  with  mouth 
and  chin  set  in  lines  of  purpose,  he  looked 
up  at  the  glittering  stars,  unconsciously  hold- 
ing forth  his  arm  with  a  gesture  of  reverence. 

"Oh,  God  of  my  fathers!"  prayed  the 
Doctor,  "  this  night  I  would  have  ye  guide  a 
sinful  Scot  with  your  infinite  wisdom." 

The  door  creaked.  Rodney  entered,  white 
and  frightened. 

"  Oh,  Roderick,"  he  whispered,  "  what  is  it? 
Why  are  you  so  grim  and  terrible?  Is  it  —  " 
but  the  Doctor  pointed  sternly  toward  the 
bed  with  a  gesture  of  rebuke. 

"  Down  on  your  knees,"  he  said  in  awful 
tones.  "  If  God  has  given  ye  a  mortal's 
heart,  ye  need  it  now!  Your  brave  little  wife 
is  dying." 


Chapter  33 
How  Rodney  found  the  kernel 

FOR  an  electric  instant  the  two  men  faced 
each  other;  then,  his  own  face  whiter  than 
the  face  of  the  man  before  him,  the  Doctor 
turned  away  and  Rodney  tottered  in  horror  to 
his  knees  by  Letty's  bed,  frantically  calling  her 
name  again  and  again.  And  the  Doctor, 
shaken  by  the  sight  of  a  grief  which  he  knew 
must  be  all  the  more  bitter  for  the  retributive 
sting  of  it,  went  quietly  away  and  closed  the 
door. 

Left  alone  by  the  bedside  Rodney  buried 
his  head  in  his  hands  with  a  sharp  intake  of 
his  breath  and  prayed  in  an  agony  of  terror 
and  remorse  for  the  life  of  the  quiet  sleeper 
on  the  bed. 

For,  after  all,  the  words  of  Aunt  Ann  and 
the  Doctor  had  pierced  to  the  quick,  and  now 
in  the  hush  of  the  death-chamber  Rodney 
found  himself  staring  at  the  ghosts  of  the 
past  as  grimly  they  unveiled  the  mockery  of 
this  thing  he  had  called  his  love.  Shaking, 
he  sought  to  drive  them  all  away  but  they 

306 


Chapter  Thirty-Three  307 

came  again:  pictures  of  Letty  Manning,  the 
fair-haired,  winsome,  brown-eyed  girl  who  had 
turned  his  boyish  head  by  the  very  charm  of 
her.  Gentle,  worshipful  wife  and  mother! 
Brave  and  loyal  little  fighter  when  the  test  had 
come  and  now  —  with  a  shuddering  glance  at 
the  bed  —  now  this  wasted,  febrile  wraith  from 
which  they  had  guarded  his  frightened  eyes. 
And  the  Doctor  and  Ann  had  said  that  he  and 
he  alone  had  done  it. 

"  Oh,  God,"  he  prayed  pitifully,  "  it  —  it  is 
not  that  I  have  not  loved  her.  It  is  not  that  —  " 

The  voice  of  conscience  came  again  to  mock 
him  with  this  thing  he  called  his  love. 

"  I  did  not  know  —  I  did  not  guess,"  he 
whispered,  unconsciously  answering  the  voice. 
"  I  —  I  thought  it  was  but  Roderick's  way  to 
frighten  me  or  I  —  I  would  not  have  walked 
so  in  the  driveway.  Oh,  God,  I  can  not  let 
her  go!  .  .  .  Save  her,  that  I  may  make 
atonement !  " 

And  the  voice  came  still,  again  humbling  the 
man  to  the  very  dust. 

There  were  no  poses  now.  .  .  .  Stripped 
to  the  quivering,  bleeding,  warped  thing  he 
called  his  soul,  the  man  faced  his  guilt,  until 
at  last  came  the  boon  of  unconsciousness  and 
Rodney  fell  forward  upon  the  floor. 


308  The  Lovable  Meddler 

How  long  he  lay  there  he  never  knew,  but 
after  a  time  he  was  conscious  of  a  droning 
murmur  outside  the  house  and  then  a  rap  upon 
the  door.  It  was  Ann. 

"  Rodney,"  she  said,  "  it  is  a  great  crowd  of 
men  with  torches.  You  were  to  have 
addressed  them,  I  suppose,  about  election,  and 
they're  growing  tired  of  waiting." 

'  Yes  —  yes,  I  remember  now."  Dazed  and 
shaking,  Rodney  followed  her  down  the  stairs. 
On  the  veranda,  he  faced  a  sportive  mob  of 
voters. 

But  a  hush  fell  over  the  crowd  as  the  glare 
of  the  torches  fell  upon  Rodney's  face  —  it 
was  so  strained  and  white  and  changed. 
"I  —  I  can  not  talk  to  you  to-night,"  he  said. 

"But  the  election,  man,  the  election !  "  called 
an  impatient  voice.  "  Great  Heavens,  you 
can't  afford  to  miss  a  chance." 

Rodney  flung  out  his  arms  and  passionately 
wheeled  upon  the  sobered  crowd. 

'  The  election  be  damned!  "  he  cried  choking. 
"  Boys,  my  wife  is  dying." 

With  a  murmur  of  sympathy  the  men  uncov- 
ered and  filed  away. 

And  as  the  Weston  door  closed,  an  incon- 
spicuous Scot  climbed  into  his  car  and  drove 
away. 


Chapter  Thirty-Three  309 

"  God  forgive  me,"  he  reflected  gravely,  "  for 
a  villainous  liar  but  I  do  not  think  from  what 
I  have  seen  that  it  has  been  in  vain.  What 
with  poor  Letty's  pulse  stronger  and  the  fever 
down,  'tis  a  greater  change  for  the  guid  than 
I  dared  to  hope.  And  Ann  will  guard  my 
sinful  secret  and  quiet  Rodney  and  see  that 
poor  Letty  is  comfortable  for  the  night  —  God 
bless  her  fine,  big,  noble  heart  so  mortal  full 
of  understanding  —  and  we  will  quietly  finish 
our  play  actin'  in  the  mornin'  and  give  the 
poor  man's  scalded  heart  relief.  He  need  never 
know  the  truth.  Aweel  — 

"  Some    books   are   lies   from    end   to    end  — 
And  some  great  Ues  were  never  penned!" 


Chapter  34 

In  which  the  Doctor  takes  a  hand  in  the  election 

for  reasons  of  his  own  and  Mother  Letty 

finds  she  can  not  remember 

I'LL  never  forget  his  face,  Agnes,"  confided 
the  Doctor  slowly.  "  It  was  the  tortured 
face  of  a  man  who  has  been  in  purgatory! 
Somehow,  after  seein'  him  without  his  mask 
of  folly,  I  canna  help  thinkin',  for  all  my 
cynical  scoffin',  that  Ann  is  right.  Somewhere 
deep  down  within  him,  inherited  from  his  father 
and  mother,  is  a  spark  of  decency  which  flamed 
up  fresh  to-night.  Agnes,  lass,  it  has  come 
to  me  with  great  and  earnest  thinkin'  that  with 
something  to  keep  the  man  busy  —  something 
outside  to  turn  his  thoughts  from  grooves  about 
himself  and  lead  him  out  betimes  into  the 
great  world  where  guid  men  learn  to  live  for 
one  another,  he  may  weather  the  gale  at  last 
and  touch  the  shores  of  Christian  living.  And 
for  the  savin'  of  his  soul,  inconsistent  as  it 
may  seem  after  all  my  bletherin',  I  have 
decided  to  support  man  Rodney  for  the  post 
of  mayor.  Doubtless  I  am  makin'  a  verra 

310 


Chapter  Thirty-Four  311 

great  mistake  —  I  make  'em  frequent  —  and 
'tis  but  a  poor  notion  at  the  best;  but  it  would 
seem  with  such  a  smart  man  as  Marshall  swingin' 
the  council,  Rodney  can't  go  far  wrong.  And 
if  he's  elected,  maybe  in  God's  guid  time  he 
will  be  so  busy  mayorin'  the  city  that  he  winna 
have  time  for  paintin';  and  that,  Agnes,  is 
after  all  the  fearful  rock  upon  which  the  fam- 
ily has  come  to  shipwreck.  Mayhap  his 
political  connection  may  lead  him  in  time  to 
some  profitable,  pleasant  work  if  we  are  patient 
with  him,  as  I  fear  I  myself  have  never  been 
yet,  and  try  to  lead  him  right,  poor,  daffy 
man!" 

Slowly,  fearfully  climbing  the  hill  to  life 
again  came  Mother  Letty,  so  weak  and  wan 
that  she  seemed  but  a  pitiful  ghost  against 
the  pillow.  And  as  the  fevered  brain  took  up 
its  task  again,  into  her  eyes  crept  fitfully  a 
puzzled  look  at  which  the  Doctor  wondered 
greatly.  For  hours  now  she  lay  staring  and 
frowning  at  the  wall,  touching  her  forehead 
again  and  again  in  distress.  Once,  meeting 
Rose's  anxious  glance,  she  caught  the  girl's 
hand  and  held  it  tightly. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  dear,"  she  whispered,  "  if  I 
could  only  remember!  " 

"  Dear,    dear    Mother,"    said    Rose    in    con- 


312  The  Lovable  Meddler 

cern,  "  please  don't  worry  so  much  about  it. 
After  all,  dear,  the  only  thing  in  the  world 
that  matters  is  that  you're  going  to  get  well. 
And  presently,  dear  me,  yes,  you'll  be  remem- 
bering everything!" 

But  Mother  Letty  clung  tragically  to  the 
girl's  hand. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  dear,"  she  faltered,  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  chain  you  so.  I  —  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was  asking,  dear,  when  you  took  my 
place,  so  sweet  and  brave  and  loyal.  It  was 
not  fair  —  not  fair!  And  then  when  I  read 
what  Mr.  Gunnigan  said,  Oh,  Rose,  I  could 
have  died  with  shame  and  remorse!  Poor 
Larry!  Poor  boy!  And  you,  my  brave,  splendid 
daughter!  Oh,  Rose,  Rose,  you'll  forgive  your 
mother  for  it  all?  " 

Rose  gently  kissed  her  mother's  forehead. 

"  Dear  Mother,"  she  said,  "  there  is  nothing 
at  all  to  forgive.  And  Larry  writes  such  splen- 
did, cheerful  letters.  No  more  talking  now  or 
the  Doctor  will  scold.  To-night  Dad's  coming 
in  for  a  while  and  you  must  save  your  strength 
to  chat  a  little  with  him."  A  tear  glistened  on 
Rose's  lashes.  "  Oh,  Mother,  if  you  could  only 
have  seen  Dad's  face  when  the  Doctor  told  him 
you  would  live.  And  Aunt  Ann  cried  so  long 
it  frightened  me." 


Chapter  Thirty-Four  313 

But  avoid  these  worrisome  topics  as  she 
might,  Rose  could  not  keep  her  mother's  truant 
thoughts  from  wandering  back  to  the  thing 
she  could  not  remember  and  to  Rose's  life  of 
sacrifice. 

And  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  with  the  Hame 
o'  Roses  awakening  to  mysterious  political 
activity  and  the  Doctor's  frank  support  cement- 
ing what  Rodney's  impassioned  damning  of 
the  election  had  begun,  came  election  day  and 
to  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  noise  of 
crowds,  Rodney  became  the  mayor  of  Auburnia 
and  wildly  elated,  Michael  Morough  called 
a  certain  thunderstruck  Irishman  upon  the 
phone  and  offered  him  the  foremost  political 
plum  in  the  boss's  basket. 

Thus  by  ways  devious  and  odd,  Rodney  came 
to  the  chair  of  chief  executive  of  his  city  but 
the  victory  was  bitter.  For  Rodney  had  come 
to  know  that  for  a  time  at  least  he  had  been 
the  butt  of  the  town's  scorn  and  ridicule. 

But  with  all  its  noise  and  rejoicing,  to  Rose 
it  was  a  sad  day,  too,  for  the  Doctor  at  night- 
fall disburdened  his  mind  of  a  growing 
conviction. 

"  Leddy  Rose,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  canna 
disguise  the  truth  from  ye  any  longer.  If  ye 
would  keep  your  dear,  brave  little  mother  with 


314  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ye,  ye  must  take  her  south  for  the  winter. 
Like  a  delicate  flower  she  canna  stand  the  cruel 
cold.  I  am  verra  much  disappointed  that  she 
is  convalescin'  so  mortal  slow  but  I  fear  it 
comes  most  from  her  fussin'  so  about  remem- 
berin'.  I  would  have  her  see  new  things,  new 
people  and  occupy  her  mind  in  a  different  way. 
What  with  her  porin'  so  persistent  over  the 
daffy  thing  she  canna  remember,  and  her  mind 
so  blank  from  noon  of  the  rainy  day  she  dropped 
down  in  the  office,  and  now  with  her  fussin' 
about  yourself  and  Larry,  there  are  times, 
though  God  knows  I  wish  I  did  not  have  to  tell 
ye,  when  I  have  grave  fears  for  her  reason. 
Now,  now,  dear  lass,  dinna  ye  cry  after  such 
a  brave  siege  as  ye've  had.  Just  the  winter 
months  in  the  south,  dear  child,  and  then  doubt- 
less by  the  time  my  bonny  roses  have  come 
again,  please  God  we  will  all  be  happy  once 


more." 


So  Rose  as  ever  wiped  her  eyes  and  smiled 
and  the  Doctor  patted  her  hair,  cleared  his 
throat  and  strode  away. 

On  a  sunny  day  in  late  November,  Mother 
Letty  was  wheeled  away  to  the  train  with  Rose 
beside  her,  to  find  her  stateroom  banked  high 
with  flowers  from  the  Doctor's  lads  and  gifts 
from  her  loyal  family,  over  which  she  cried 


Chapter  Thirty-Four  315 

a  little  and  laughed  a  little,  clinging  with  a  sob 
to  Rodney's  hand.  Presently,  clustering  about 
Aunt  Ann  and  her  battered  alpenstock,  Rodney 
and  his  daughters,  for  all  their  sinking  hearts, 
bravely  waved  as  the  train  drew  out.  For  it 
was  bearing  away  their  beloved  comforters  in 
time  of  trouble,  Mother  Rose  and  Mother  Letty. 


Chapter  35 
The  forces  that  went  to  the  making  of  Rodney 

AND  so  Aunt  Ann  systematically  redis- 
tributed her  glasses  —  for  in  the  general 
excitement  many  of  them  had  been  too  securely 
re-hidden  to  find  —  wrote  a  concentrated  letter 
of  instructions  to  her  housekeeper,  and  set 
herself  again  to  the  management  of  her 
brother's  lonely  house. 

Who  may  say  what  inner  tormenting  forces 
were  ceaselessly  at  work  beneath  the  baffling 
quiet  of  Rodney's  manner?  Aunt  Ann  won- 
dered greatly  but  reflecting  that  humanity  as 
a  whole  slides  back  into  habitual  grooves  with 
fatal  facility,  she  prudently  set  herself,  after 
consultation  with  the  Doctor,  to  the  making 
over  of  Rodney,  not  content  to  resign  that 
process  to  the  hand  of  Fate.  Rodney  himself 
had  found  the  kernel  that  unforgettable  night. 
Very  well  —  it  remained  for  Aunt  Ann  to 
make  it  grow  and  by  way  of  an  initial  step, 
she  made  a  list  of  her  brother's  petty 
indulgences. 

Winter   nights,   under   the   horrified   battery 

316 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  317 

of  her  nieces'  eyes,  Aunt  Ann  calmly 
entrenched  herself  in  the  sacred  Throne  Chair 
and  chatted  to  her  brother  of  the  sordid 
issues  of  the  day.  Mercilessly  she  laid  before 
him  the  domestic  mishaps  from  which  he  had 
always  been  shielded,  casually  demanding  his 
advice.  Rodney's  answers  were  at  first  very 
vague  and  confused  and  a  little  resentful,  but 
after  the  surprising  discovery  that  any  domestic 
problem  upon  which  he  failed  to  express  a  def- 
inite opinion,  was  laid  upon  the  shelf  to  await 
his  convenience  no  matter  what  temporary 
discomfort  the  delay  entailed,  they  came  some- 
what more  freely.  Thus  when  a  careless  urchin 
with  a  sling  shot  had  broken  a  studio  window, 
the  artist  promptly  summoned  his  sister;  but 
the  window  was  not  repaired  until  Rodney 
measured  the  glass  himself  and  telephoned  an 
order  for  it. 

Looking  back,  the  aggrieved  artist  could  not 
remember  a  time  when  he  had  not  breakfasted 
by  himself  at  ten.  Yet  Aunt  Ann  decreed  a 
breakfast  assembly  at  seven  and  after  one  or 
two  futile  and  dignified  attempts  at  rebellion, 
during  which  he  went  without  any  breakfast 
at  all,  he  meekly  appeared,  avoiding  his  sister's 
cordial  eyes. 

Afternoon  naps,  said  Aunt  Ann  crisply,  were 


318  The  Lovable  Meddler 

an  invention  of  the  devil  made  to  trap  lazy 
women  without  mental  resource;  wherefore  she 
briskly  seized  her  alpenstock  and  trotted  her 
brother  forth  in  his  napping  hour  upon  healthful 
tramps.  And  again  after  futile  protest  Rodney 
went.  After  a  while  of  his  own  accord  he  ceased 
begging  special  dishes,  which  were  never  forth- 
coming anyway,  and  ate  the  family  dinner  with 
the  rest. 

So  much  for  the  King's  Throne  Chair,  his 
indolence  and  utter  freedom  from  responsibility 
of  any  sort.  They  were  soon  things  of  the 
tranquil  past  to  which  Rodney  found  himself 
looking  back  with  wistful  longing.  There 
remained  the  greatest  problem  of  all,  the  artist's 
troublesome  nerves  and  his  painting,  both  of 
them  as  the  Doctor  dryly  hinted,  wholly  imag- 
inary possessions.  And  upon  the  first  of  these 
Aunt  Ann  made  her  next  attack. 

To  mention  of  the  artist's  nerves  Aunt  Ann 
said  "Bosh!"  to  no  avail.  No  matter  how 
frequently  and  severely  boshed,  the  nerve  hal- 
lucination continued.  Finding  this  vagary  so 
persistent,  Aunt  Ann  betook  herself  and  her 
alpenstock  to  the  Doctor's  office  and  returned 
with  a  clinical  thermometer  and  much  valuable 
information  about  nerves  in  general  and  Rod- 
ney's in  particular.  Thereafter,  to  his  dismay, 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  319 

when  Rodney  pleaded  nerves  Aunt  Ann  was 
sympathetic,  took  his  pulse  and  his  temperature, 
insisted  upon  his  instant  retirement  to  bed  and 
sent  for  the  Doctor.  After  one  or  two 
monotonous  afternoons  in  a  darkened  room, 
with  hourly  doses  of  a  singularly  unpleasant 
nerve  medicine,  it  was  noticeable  that  Rodney's 
nerves  were  growing  stronger.  And  after  a 
time  this  vagary  too  flitted  away  with  those 
other  vanishing  luxuries  of  the  sultanic  past. 

But  he  clung  to  his  painting. 

"  Like  a  child  with  a  battered  doll!  "  said  Aunt 
Ann  soberly  to  the  Doctor.  '  A  poor  thing 
but  mine  own  I '  As  a  boy,  Roderick,  he  was 
perpetually  reflecting  some  favorite  character 
in  fiction.  If  the  hero  of  a  book  had  a  fetching 
swing  of  his  shoulders,  Rodney  essayed  to  dupli- 
cate that  swing.  If  the  hero  had  any 
pronounced  peculiarities  in  dress,  that  was 
pretty  sure  to  crop  out  sooner  or  later  and 
linger  until  some  new  fiction  whim  supplanted 
it.  Sometime  or  other,  I  fancy,"  guessing  better 
than  she  knew,  "  Rodney  has  read  of  an  erratic 
handsome  genius  with  nerves  and  temperament, 
who  was  exempt  by  reason  of  his  art  from  the 
obligations  of  mankind;  and  he  has  fed  upon 
that  notion  until  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  to 
give  it  up.  I  have  dissected  every  chromo 


320  The  Lovable  Meddler 

in  the  studio  with  brutal  candor.  He  only 
colors  and  looks  away.  Meek  and  tractable 
now  in  everything  else,  he  relapses  into  stony 
quiet  when  I  mention  his  art. 

"  I  suppose  I'm  getting  sentimental  myself, 
Roderick,  but  I  vow  there  are  times  when  I 
really  do  feel  sorry  for  him.  He's  so  wistful 
it's  pathetic.  All  of  his  old  air  of  gracious 
complacency  is  gone;  he's  timid  and  uncertain. 
And  sometimes  he  sits  by  the  window  for  hours 
so  harmless  and  forlorn  that  I  simply  have  to 
go  and  pat  him  on  the  back,  I  feel  so  guilty, 
and  tell  him  to  chirk  up  a  bit.  And  then  he 
brightens  up  immediately,  as  if  he  were  grateful 
for  some  attention  that  isn't  critical.  Then  we 
talk  of  Letty  and  how  well  she  is  getting  along 
in  the  milder  climate,  and  presently  he's  off 
to  write  her  one  of  his  endless  letters  —  and  I 
feel  better.  He's  lonely  of  course  and  the  girls 
are  pretty  quiet.  I  think  they're  all  a  bit  upset 
at  Aunt  Ann's  brazen  villainy  in  managing 
father!  Last  week,  with  very  little  assistance 
from  me,  Rodney  balanced  the  month's  accounts 
despite  their  sordidness!  And  those  terrible 
twins  —  bless  their  sunny  hearts!  —  they  glee- 
fully marched  round  and  round  him  whistling 
a  duet  of  encouragement,  some  rollicking  tune 
they  invented  while  they  were  painting  the 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  321 

house,   and  he   suddenly   began  to   laugh   and 
seemed  more  cheerful  than  he  has  for  weeks." 

"  Ann,"  said  the  Doctor  shaking  his  head, 
"  ye  are  doin'  wonderful  work,  wonderful  work! 
But  dinna  ye  go  to  runnin'  to  heart  instead  of 
head  or  ye  will  spoil  it  all.  The  paintin'  must 
go.  If  the  man  must  have  somebody  or  some- 
thing to  reflect  we  must  get  him  another  model. 
And  it  must  not  be  a  genius  or  a  man  with 
nerves." 

So  matters  stood  when  Dame  Fate  stretched 
forth  her  hand  and  guided  Aunt  Ann  to  a  book- 
case in  Rodney's  studio. 

"Why,  Rodney,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  didn't 
know  you  had  Raoul  de  Severac's  books  on  art. 
I  climbed  a  mountain  with  him." 

Rodney  looked  up  with  interest. 

"  Best  modern  critic  of  art  we  have !  And 
his  books  on  technique  are  brilliant." 

Aunt  Ann  nodded. 

"  Climbs  as  well  as  he  writes,  too. 
Would  you  —  would  you  like  to  meet  him  and 
have  him  go  over  —  your  work.     He  lives  in 
Washington   Square   and   I   know  he'd   come. 
.     .     .     We  were  excellent  friends." 

"Ann!" 

"Would  you,  really?"  But  Aunt  Ann 
avoided  his  eager  gaze. 


322  The  Lovable  Meddler 

There  was  a  touch  of  the  old  bombast  in  his 
answer  and  a  hint  of  reproach. 

"  It  would  be  a  privilege,"  said  Rodney,  "  for 
he  knows  good  work  when  he  sees  it." 

Aunt  Ann  sighed. 

"  Heroic,"  she  said  a  little  later  to  the  Doc- 
tor, "  but  I'm  sure  it  will  do  the  trick.  Raoul's 
brutally  candid.  I  wonder  I  didn't  think  of 
him  before.  I  told  him  all  in  the  letter  —  " 

"  Cruel,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  but  kind.  Like 
a  rainbow  folio  win'  the  tears  of  a  cloud! " 

So  he  came  to  Auburnia  to  lunch  —  this 
slight,  dark  Frenchman  with  nimble  feet  and 
nimbler  mind  —  and  Rodney  —  the  old  Rodney 
for  a  time  at  least  —  basked  in  the  greatness  of 
his  guest. 

It  was  a  pleasant  luncheon  in  the  bright,  old- 
fashioned  dining  room  with  the  Doctor  a  fourth. 

"  For  you  must  come,"  Aunt  Ann  had 
implored,  "  or  I  shall  not  be  brave  enough  at 
the  end." 

Over  his  coffee  Raoul  consulted  his  watch. 

"  It  is  of  very  great  sorrow,"  he  regretted, 
"  that  I  have  promised  De  Savigny  to  reach 
his  beastly  studio  tea  at  four.  Otherwise,"  he 
bowed  to  Aunt  Ann,  "  I  should  linger  on, 
greatly  to  enjoy  your  pleasant  hospitality." 

Rodney  pushed  back  his  chair  with  a  smile. 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  323 

"  But,"  he  reminded,  "  before  you  go  —  " 

Raoul  nodded. 

"  I  am  most  happy,"  said  he,  "  to  be  of 
service." 

"  Remember,"  warned  Aunt  Ann  under  her 
breath  as  he  passed  her  chair,  "  remember,  it 
must  be  the  brutal  truth! " 

"  Rest  assured,"  murmured  De  Severac,  "  it 
shall.  For  you  have  said  it.  Here  to  be  cruel 
is  to  be  kind." 

Smiling  he  followed  Rodney  to  the  studio. 

It  was  swift  and  merciless  work.  One  sweep- 
ing glance  at  the  canvases  arrayed  for  his 
inspection  and  Raoul  shuddered.  Then  in  his 
precise,  accented  English  he  began  the 
dissection,  one  by  one. 

'  There  is  no  proportion,"  he  summarized, 
shaking  his  head  hopelessly.  '  There  are  mean- 
ingless little  waggles  here  and  there,  a  curious 
conception  of  color  values,  perniciously  unique! 
Composition,  perspective  —  Ugh,  monsieur!" 
lamented  Raoul,  "how  could  you?  Mon  Dieu, 
how  could  you?  Mediocrity  in  art  —  it  is  even 
as  a  great  and  noble  instrument  in  the  unskilled 
hands  of  a  man  of  deafness.  It  jars!  Voilal 
.  .  .  pardonnez  moi,  Monsieur!  You  would 
have  the  truth.  You  h«ve  said  it  at  luncheon. 
Voila  tout! " 


324  The  Lovable  Meddler 

Rodney  dropped  heavily  into  the  Throne 
Chair  with  a  sigh  and  a  gulp  and  stared  at 
the  mocking  line  of  canvases.  Nor  did  he  know 
when  the  Frenchman  left.  How  long  he  sat 
there  he  was  unaware  but  after  a  time  he  was 
conscious  of  a  kindly  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
It  was  the  Doctor,  his  keen  eyes  sympathetic. 

"  Man  Rodney,"  said  the  Doctor  gently, 
*  'tis  verra  hard,  I  dinna  doubt,  but  after  all, 
'tis  for  the  guid  of  ye.  Ye  must  see  now  surely 
with  Raoul's  verdict  that  ye  canna  paint ! " 

Rodney  winced. 

"  Now,  man,"  went  on  the  Doctor  briskly, 
"  I  would  have  ye  face  the  bitter  fact  squarely 
and  have  done  with  it.  Ye  have  hung  yourself 
heavy  with  chains  of  delusion  about  yourself 
and  your  art,  never  realizin',  I  take  it,  that  ye 
impeded  yourself  along  with  the  others.  But 
now  with  Aunt  Ann  a-breakin'  the  cruel  chains 
for  ye  one  by  one  and  the  daffy  little  French- 
man strippin'  ye  so  frankly  of  the  final  one, 
'tis  time,  say  I,  ye  dig  up  the  kernel  again  and 
stand  up  confident  upon  the  two  guid  feet  of 
ye,  a  man  before  his  Maker!" 

"  Oh,  Roderick,"  blurted  Rodney,  stung  into 
confession  by  the  Doctor's  kindliness,  "it  —  it 
is  something  I  have  lived  with  day  by  day. 
I  —  I  can  not  give  it  up  now  like  a  threadbare 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  325 

coat.    After  all,  it  is  the  only  thing  in  life  that 
is  all  my  own." 

"  Hum!  "  said  the  Doctor.  "  Hum.  .  .  . 
Well,  that  is  verra  true  but  'tis  a  time,  man, 
.when  ye  must  look  to  the  high  and  holy  courage 
of  Mother  Rose  and  profit  by  the  lookin'.  Canna 
ye  see  the  difference  yourself?  Here  is  dear 
Mother  Rose  spendin'  her  life  without  a  murmur 
in  service  to  the  needs  of  others.  And  then, 
if  ye  will  just  pardon  my  plain  speakin'  once 
more,  for  all  I've  browbeaten  ye  so  frequent  — 
here  again  is  yourself  with  but  a  mediocre  facil- 
ity for  fashionin'  colored  chromos  such  as  these 
fearful  canvases  about  me,  and  ye  selfishly 
bend  every  life  about  ye  to  serve  an  indifferent 
gift.  And  then  when  the  Frenchman,  keen  and 
critical  and  brilliantly  gifted  as  he  is,  tells  ye 
the  tragic  truth,  ye  canna  even  then  give  up 
this  wicked  delusion  about  your  paintin'.  Look 
high  above  ye,  man  Rodney,"  finished  the  Doc- 
tor, dramatically  raising  his  arm,  "  look  high 
to  where  dear  Mother  Rose  stands  in  her  spot- 
less, snow-white  robes  glorified  with  the  light 
of  God-given  sacrifice,  turnin'  her  beautiful 
face  away  from  love  itself  with  a  sunny  smile, 
that  she  may  minister  bravely  to  the  needs  of 
her  father's  house.  Will  ye  have  one  of  your 
own  bairns  so  much  braver  than  yourself?  " 


326  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Rose  is  better  and  braver  than  I,"  said 
Rodney  quietly.  "  She  is  like  her  mother." 
And  he  stared  at  the  fire,  his  finely-chiseled 
lips  quivering  like  those  of  a  wistful  child. 

"  Man  Rodney,"  pleaded  the  Doctor,  "  let  us 
strike  while  the  iron  is  guid  and  hot.  Let  us 
go  behind  the  barn,  pile  all  the  studio  fixin's 
together  and  burn  the  lot  of  them.  Eh,  Rodney, 
what  d'ye  say,  man?  In  a  roundabout  way,  ye 
mind,  'twas  the  paintin'  after  all  that  almost 
led  to  the  death  of  Letty." 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Rodney,  "  it  helped  to  blind 
me." 

"  And  ye  will  help  me  burn  'em  all,  chromos 
and  palette  and  all  the  other  whirligigums  with 
which  ye  have  been  wont  to  attend  to  your 
artin'?" 

For  an  interval  in  which  the  Doctor  feared 
desperately  for  the  outcome,  Rodney  stared 
tragically  at  the  fire.  It  was  bearing  away 
delusions. 

'  Yes,"  he  whispered  at  last,  his  lips  white, 
"  it  is  —  is  better  so.  De  Severac  knows.  He 
could  not  be  wrong.  I  —  I  respect  his  judg- 
ment above  all  others.  We  —  we  will  burn 
them  all." 

With  a  great  sigh  of  relief  the  Doctor  flung 
back  the  studio  door  and  with  a  canvas  beneath 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  327 

each  arm  and  pockets  sagging  with  the  pettier 
paraphernalia  of  Rodney's  trade,  betook  him- 
self to  the  holocaust  behind  the  barn.  Rodney 
followed,  white  and  silent. 

Canvas,  paints,  brushes,  easel  and  all!  The 
Doctor  crowned  the  pile  with  a  book  of  sketches. 

"  Hum,"  said  he  with  sympathy,  "  'twould 
doubtless  seem  a  verra  great  pity  to  burn  per- 
fectly guid  paints  and  spotless  canvas  before 
it  has  been  used,  but,  Rodney,  I  would  not  give 
ye  a  single  chance  to  backslide.  Mortals,  no 
matter  what,  backslide  frequent." 

Whistling  a  little  self-consciously  the  Doctor 
struck  a  match  and  Rodney  drew  back,  winc- 
ing. Before  he  could  protest  and  retract  in 
a  moment  of  panic,  the  inflammable  mass  was 
shooting  forth  tongues  of  flame.  Shuddering, 
Rodney  turned  away  from  the  sickening  sight 
of  it,  swallowing  manfully.  Clothes  prop  in 
hand  the  Doctor  prodded  the  malodorous  mass 
into  crackling  activity  and  watched  it  burn  down 
quite  to  ashes,  growing  a  little  fretful  at  the 
conduct  of  his  throat. 

"Oh,  deil  take  it!"  he  reflected  morosely, 
"  I  canna  help  feelin'  mortal  sorry  for  him.  I 
have  not  seen  such  a  forlorn  and  broken  man 
this  many  a  day.  If  he  would  but  speak  a  bit 
and  not  stand  there  with  his  back  against  the 


328  The  Lovable  Meddler 

barn,  a-starin'  so  fixed  and  queer  at  the  fire 
and  me  and  my  wicked  clothes  pole  as  if  I 
were  the  Hornie  himself  pokerin'  with  a  pitch- 
fork, I  dinna  think  I  would  mind  so  much. 
.  .  .  Hum!  There's  Ann  upstairs  at  the 
window.  Doubtless  she'll  be  mortal  surprised 
at  the  burnin'  notion,  for  it  did  not  come  over 
me  until  I  looked  at  the  fire  in  the  studio  with 
man  Rodney  himself  blisterin'  beside  it  so  sor- 
rowful and  starin'  at  his  chromos." 

And  as  Aunt  Ann  realized  the  portent  of  the 
burning  mass  she  promptly  reached  for  a  pair 
of  glasses  in  a  jardiniere  by  the  window  and 
stared  at  Rodney  and  the  Doctor. 

"  Roderick,"  she  decided  "  is  probably  the 
most  unexpected  man  I  shall  ever  know.  How 
he  persuaded  Rodney  to  the  making  of  that 
funeral  pyre  is  utterly  beyond  me.  It's  a  good 
cause  but  I  do  wish  Roderick  in  his  enthusiasm 
hadn't  taken  the  best  clothes  pole  in  the  yard 
to  poker  with." 

So  perished  the  paraphernalia  of  Rodney's 
art,  and  the  studio,  denuded  now  of  all  the  pic- 
turesque trimmings  upon  which  he  had  fed  his 
monumental  vanity,  became  for  him  but  a 
barren  room  shrining  a  memory. 

Shaking  at  the  sight  of  it,  Rodney  dropped 
into  a  chair  by  the  table  and  looked  tragically 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  329 

about  him.  Then  his  head  slid  forward  upon 
his  arms  and  King  Rodney,  fallen  from  his 
high  estate,  wept  such  bitter,  scalding,  racking 
tears  as  men  rarely  shed.  Touched  by  the 
man's  utter  collapse,  the  Doctor  walked  away 
to  the  fire. 

"  Roderick,"  said  Rodney  at  last,  "  I  always 
meant  to  repay  Letty  with  the  fruits  of  that  — 
of  that  work  we  burned.  You  will  not  believe 
it,  but  I  know  no  other  way  to  work.  It  was 
the  only  hope  I  had.  I  fancied  Rose  could 
show  me  how,  she  is  so  clever,  and  —  and  I 
could  always  draw  a  little.  But  there  is  nothing 
—  nothing  at  all  I  can  do  myself." 

'  There  is  much  that  you  can  do ! "  said  the 
Doctor  warmly.  "  Ye  can  make  of  yourself  a 
self-respectin'  man  and  by  and  by  I  myself 
will  find  ye  a  job.  Dinna  mourn  for  your  lost 
genius,  man.  Genius  is  but  a  twist  of  a  man's 
brain  for  which  he  need  not  feel  so  mortal  proud, 
for  'twas  not  of  his  own  makin'.  With  some 
folks  'tis  an  excrescence  and  with  you,  man, 
to-day  we  have  been  gettin'  rid  of  the  trouble- 
some, disfigurin*  growth  in  a  verra  painful 
fashion.  I  mind  me,  Rodney,  of  a  genius  who 
fancied  he  was  exempt  from  the  obligations 
of  mankind  for  decent  livin',  a  genius  mind  ye, 
who  would  go  scallawaggin'  about  in  the  olden 


330  The  Lovable  Meddler 

day,  a-murderin'  folk  for  love  of  it  and  gettin' 
himself  off  mortal  easy  account  of  his  work. 
Myself  I  would  have  greatly  enjoyed  givin' 
the  swaggerin',  braggin'  bully  a  fearful  crack 
on  the  noddle  and  maybe  knock  his  conceited 
notions  clean  out  of  his  head  along  with  his 
senses.  I  would  like  to  have  told  him  flat  that 
to  be  a  man  is  a  greater  achievement  than  to 
be  a  genius,  for  the  one  is  something  of  your 
own  hard  work  and  the  other  ye  canna  help 
account  of  the  brain  twist.  Moreover,  there's 
no  picture  or  book,  no  matter  how  mortal  guid, 
that  will  repay  for  the  selfish  harm  done  to 
other  folks.  Now,  man  Rodney,  I  would  have 
ye  grant  me  pardon  for  many  a  wild  moment 
when  my  sinful  temper  bolted  away  from  me." 

The  Doctor  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Onward,"  he  boomed  dramatically,  "  onward 
to  self-respectin'  manhood." 

Rodney,  coloring,  seized  the  hand.  It  was  an 
offer  of  friendship  sorely  needed,  and  after  all 
deep  down  in  his  heart  he  had  always  liked  the 
Doctor. 

"  Onward,"  he  faltered,  "  onward  to  self- 
respecting  manhood." 

Now  the  Doctor  had  once  expressed  a  hope 
that  Rodney  would  be  so  busy  "  mayorin'  "  the 
city  that  he  must  perforce  give  up  his  painting, 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  331 

but  like  everything  else  which  the  Doctor 
planned,  things  came  about  conversely.  With 
his  painting  but  a  bitter  memory,  Rodney  turned 
to  "  mayorin' '  the  city  by  way  of  solace. 
Urged  on  by  the  Doctor,  Marshall,  the  clever 
councilman-at-large  from  the  Doctor's  own  ward, 
took  the  new  mayor  under  his  wing  and  taught 
him  the  A-B-C's  of  civic  government.  Stripped 
now  by  so  many  trials  of  the  fatal  optimism  that 
had  led  to  financial  disaster  years  ago,  Rodney's 
vision  grew  clearer  and  his  judgment  sounder. 
For  Marshall  was  an  excellent  teacher  and, 
thanks  to  the  Doctor,  knew  his  man. 

Timidly  at  first,  with  Marshall,  with  Aunt 
Ann,  with  the  Doctor  advising,  Rodney  found 
his  feet  and  stood  upon  them,  eventually  to  be 
confronted  by  the  crux  of  his  administration, 
a  tenement  housing  problem  yearly  and  dishon- 
orably solved  by  politicians.  Backed  by  the 
Doctor,  Rodney  investigated  tenement  condi- 
tions, to  expose  in  the  columns  of  Bob's  paper 
the  system  by  which  the  tenement  house  owners 
evaded  the  law.  An  indignant  cry  went  up 
for  the  popular  panacea,  commission  govern- 
ment, and  swift  upon  his  revelation  of  graft 
and  dishonesty  the  outraged  voters  at  the  polls 
made  their  formal  demand  for  cleaner 
government. 


332  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  Man  Rodney,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  yourself 
and  Marshall  have  accomplished  marvels.  Ye 
have  done  what  no  other  mayor  before  has  been 
brave  or  guid  enough  to  attempt.  Ye  have 
bucked  the  machine  and  exposed  the  sinful 
house  facilities  of  Cleton.  That  touches  me  in 
a  verra  sore  point,  what  with  the  bebbies  dyin' 
and  the  plumberin'  bad  enough  for  the  stable  of 
Augeas." 

"  Marshall  is  pleased,"  said  Rodney  simply. 
"  Do  you  think,  now  that  I  understand  better, 
that  I  might  be  one  of  the  five  commissioners? 
It  is  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  —  " 

The  Doctor  warmly  pledged  support. 

"  And  after  he  is  through  commissionerin',  if 
the  city  elects  him  as  it  should  after  his  grand 
guid  work  among  the  tenements,"  the  Doctor 
confided  to  Aunt  Ann,  "  doubtless  he  will  have 
had  experience  enough  of  one  kind  or  another 
to  hold  down  a  job.  I'm  mortal  pleased." 

Aunt  Ann  wiped  her  eyes. 

"I'm  so  proud,"  she  said,  " that  I  hardly 
know  how  to  express  it.  I  hope  now  that  he 
won't  find  any  disturbing  model  to  reflect  and 
so  spoil  it  all.  I  don't  suppose  we  can  expect 
him  to  discard  all  the  habits  of  a  lifetime  so 
readily." 

"  Aweel,    Ann,"    philosophized    the    Doctor, 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  333 

"  maybe  the  man's  done  reflectin'.  Ye  canna 
teU." 

But  Rodney  was  not  yet  through  with  reflect- 
ing. There  was  presently  an  aristocratic  twist 
to  his  diction,  an  elaborate  courtesy  in  his 
manner  to  Aunt  Ann  and  his  daughters;  and 
the  mystified  Doctor  looked  about  for  the  model 
of  it  all. 

"Doubtless  some  daffy  book!"  he  decided, 
frowning.  "  Ann  told  me  of  his  facility  for 
reflectin'  books.  I  hope  the  hero  winna  have  any 
nerves  and  temperament  or  genius,  or  we  may 
go  slidin'  back  upon  the  rocks  after  all  Ann's 
wonderful  work." 

But  with  the  appearance  of  a  pronounced 
southern  drawl  in  the  mayor's  voice,  the  Doctor 
chuckled.  Rodney  was  reflecting  an  occasional 
visitor  to  Auburnia,  Colonel  Ridgely,  Lloyd's 
father ! 

"  No  doubt  about  it,  Ann,"  exclaimed  the 
Doctor,  "  I  can  see  it  now  in  the  man's  every 
move.  What  with  Lloyd's  father  comin'  north 
so  frequent,  Rodney  has  just  come  to  admirin' 
him  so  that  he  canna  help  reflectin'  his  courtly 
manners.  I  mind  me  now,  lookin'  back,  how 
Rodney  stared  and  stared  at  the  way  Colonel 
Ridgely  bowed  so  grand  to  his  wife  and  spoke 
so  gentle  and  precise.  Ann,  if  ye  value  my 


334  The  Lovable  Meddler 

friendship,  dinna  ye  dare  criticize  your  brother's 
southern  accent  or  his  noble  manner  of  speakin' 
or  his  courtly  ways.  With  the  colonel  talkin' 
some  of  comin'  north  to  be  closer  to  Lloyd,  we'll 
just  dangle  him  constant  before  Brother  Rod- 
ney's eyes.  If  the  man  must  have  somebody  to 
reflect,  he  could  not  have  a  finer,  courtlier  model 
than  Lloyd's  father.  And  maybe  if  his  art 
model  lasted  so  long,  this  one  will  last  him  to 
his  death.  It  would  not  hurt  me  to  be  doin' 
a  bit  of  *  reflectin' '  of  my  own,  especially  about 
troosers. 

"  Ah,  Peggy,  lass,"  he  fretted  on  the  way 
home,  "  I  just  canna  help  feelin'  sorely  dis- 
satisfied with  myself  whenever  I  think  of  such 
a  fine  and  courtly  man  as  Lloyd's  father.  Such 
presence,  Peggy,  such  dignity;  no  matter  what, 
he  just  could  not  be  unprofessional.  He  wasn't 
cursed  with  a  degraded  taste  for  ragged  carpet 
slippers  and  ragged  fur  caps  and,  I  take  it, 
he  would  not  think  of  scallawaggin'  about 
behind  such  a  piebald  snailie  as  yourself.  He 
has  an  air  of  distinction,  Peggy,  a  real  air  of 
distinction." 

Peggy  drowsily  flicked  an  ear  and  the  Doctor 
began  afresh. 

*  Ye  maybe  cast  your  comprehendin'  eye  upon 
his  troosers  at  some  time  or  other,  Peggy? 


Chapter    Thirty-Five  335 

None  of  your  baggy  knees  for  him  such  as  you 
and  I  have  at  times  noticed  in  others.  Creases 
he  had,  Peggy,  lass,  creases  which  havin'  shook 
out  sufficient  to  be  elegant,  still  had  not  shook 
out  enough  to  resemble  inflated  balloonies.  I 
would  I  knew  the  trick  of  deadlockin'  them 
just  at  that  point  as  Colonel  Ridgely  does. 
With  me  'tis  either  a  crease  like  the  peak  of  a 
roof  or  no  crease  at  all,  deil  take  it !  " 

The  Doctor  shook  the  reins  impatiently  but 
Peggy,  sensing  his  irritation,  forgave  him  the 
indignity  and  ignored  it. 

"  And,  Peggy,"  went  on  the  Doctor  morosely, 
"  I  would  I  were  not  such  a  Paddy  Blunt  with 
my  tongue.  I  would  like  much  to  discourse  in 
high-soundin'  phrases  like  Colonel  Ridgely  but 
I  canna  bow  graceful  without  my  old  back 
creakin'  a  fearful  snap  like  a  blunderbuss,  and 
I  canna  help  bein'  slangy,  and  I  was  cursed  with 
a  persistent  love  for  the  dialect  of  Bobby  Burns. 
'Tis  not  that  I  canna  speak  English,  Peggy,  if 
I  have  a  mind  to.  'Tis  the  fearful  facility  of 
my  tongue  for  lapsin'  into  vernacular  in 
moments  of  excitement.  My  brain  and  my 
clackin'  tongue  work  together  too  swiftly  for 
discretion  and  I  canna  always  remember  to  tack 
on  my  g's.  After  all,  Peggy,  I'm  a  verra 
indifferent  sort  of  person." 


336          The  Lovable  Meddler 

So  Rodney  continued  to  reflect  Colonel 
Ridgely,  and  after  five  months  in  the  mayoralty 
chair  found  himself  placed  once  more  upon  his 
city's  ticket  with  Marshall  first  and  himself 
second  in  a  preliminary  list  of  ten  selected  at 
the  primaries  —  five  of  whom  would  eventually 
be  appointed  commissioners  at  a  special  election 
in  June. 

"  And  since  Rodney  is  second  upon  the  list, 
I  dinna  doubt  he  will  be  elected  one  of  the  five 
commissioners,  with  Marshall  as  his  chief," 
pointed  out  the  Doctor.  "  I'm  verra  glad." 

Rodney  wrote  the  prospect  to  his  wife  in  an 
honorable,  courageous  letter  of  expiation  which 
Mother  Letty  read  with  tearful  eyes. 

"  It  was  only  when  I  was  tired  and  worried," 
she  whispered,  "  that  I  ever  doubted." 

"  And  Mother  is  so  proud  of  Dad,"  wrote 
Rose  to  the  Doctor  near  the  end  of  May,  "  that 
she  has  improved  wonderfully  since  the  letter 
came.  She  read  it  and  cried  and  read  again 
and  cried  again  and  then  went  to  bed  with  the 
letter  under  her  pillow.  Dr.  Rawlinson  says 
she  is  so  much  better  that  now  perhaps  we  can 
come  home  in  June. 

"If  only  Mother  would  not  try  so  hard  to 
remember!  It  has  kept  her  back  and  made  her 
pitifully  nervous  and  Dr.  Rawlinson  scolds  now 


Chapter  Thirty-Five  337 

whenever  she  mentions  it.  If  I  leave  her  alone 
for  an  instant,  she  is  frowning  and  groping 
about  in  her  memory  and  so  often  she  murmurs 
to  me,  '  If  I  could  only  remember!  Oh,  Rose, 
if  I  could  only  remember!  It's  so  very  essen- 
tial, I'm  sure,  that  I  should.'  And  at  night  she 
dreams  of  it.  At  times  she  wakes  flushed  and 
excited  —  almost  on  the  verge  of  remembering 
and  when  she  finds  that  she's  awake  and  that 
it  has  slipped  her  mind  again,  she  cries  and 
sometimes  I  can  not  soothe  her. 

"  Jerry  has  been  to  see  us  on  his  sketching 
trip  through  the  South.  Dear,  gloomy,  dis- 
gusted chap!  He  said  that  the  Cave  and  the 
Music  Box  were  so  gloomy  and  fretful  with 
Larry  away  and  everything  gone  wrong,  and 
that  Quin  quarreled  with  him  about  his  pinochle 
habits  and  the  janitor  so  persistently  objected 
to  his  oboe,  that  he  couldn't  stand  it.  .  .  . 
But  he  thinks  the  South  is  even  gloomier. 

"  Larry  writes  me  from  Thibet.  Down 
through  Arabia  into  India  and  Thibet  he  has 
gone,  camping  in  the  desert  with  a  horde  of 
Arabs.  Nearly  a  year  since  he  went  away  and 
still  he  writes  nothing  at  all  of  coming  home. 
He  speaks  some  of  going  back  into  Southern 
India  or  on  to  China." 

"  Deil  take  the  daffy  thing  she  canna  remem- 


338  The  Lovable  Meddler 

ber!"  stormed  the  Doctor.  "Here  was  I  so 
secure  a-thinkin'  since  Mother  Rose  told  me 
nothing  more  of  it  for  so  long,  that  maybe  her 
mother  did  not  fuss  about  it  now.  'Tis  verra 
queer  —  verra  queer  indeed.  I  will  write 
straightway  to  my  guid  friend,  Douglas  Mac- 
Ilvaine.  Doubtless  'twill  be  more  in  his  line  than 
mine.  And  once  'tis  all  settled,  with  Letty  quite 
well  and  Mother  Rose  no  longer  bound  so  close 
to  nursin'  her  poor  mother,  and  when  the  Weston 
house  is  changed  about,  with  Letty  managin' 
a  woman's  job  and  Rodney  supportin'  her  with 
his  commissionerin'  money  if  he's  elected,  I 
will  send  my  poor  lad  over  the  seas  a  cablegram 
that  will  bring  him  home  with  all  speed  or  my 
name  is  not  Roderick  Glenmuir !  " 


Chapter  36 
Another  rose-party 

COME,  come,  Peggy,  lass,"  admonished  the 
Doctor,  "  wake  up !  Guid  faith,  ye're  none 
too  popular  with  the  guid  wife  now  and  if  ye 
doze  and  fall  down  in  sight  of  home,  I'll  dine 
to  the  tune  of  your  failings.  Shake  a  leg,  lass, 
shake  a  leg." 

Peggy  stumbled  drowsily  over  a  pebble  and 
the  Doctor  turned  to  the  man  at  his  side,  a 
Scot  with  a  bushy  mane  of  hair  and  brows  and 
dark  compelling  eyes,  keen  behind  his  glasses. 
'Twas  mortal  guid  of  ye  to  come,  Duggie!  " 
he  exclaimed.  "Mortal  guid!"  Then,  catching 
the  white  flutter  of  gowiis  upon  the  veranda  of 
the  Hame,  he  squared  his  shoulders,  tightened 
the  reins  and  uttered  a  brisk  command  to  Peggy, 
seeking  to  stampede  her  into  a  smart  and  pro- 
fessional arrival.  Quite  in  vain.  Peggy, 
alas!  stopped  short,  turned  and  blinked  at  him 
in  grotesque  and  gentle  inquiry.  The  Doctor's 
dream  of  dashing  grandly  up  the  driveway  for 
the  edification  of  his  wife  and  daughter  and  his 
guest  vanished.  When  Peggy  elected  to  move 

339 


340  The  Lovable  Meddler 

on,  in  an  ignominious  amble,  the  Doctor  glanced 
furtively  at  his  wife,  whose  eyes  were  twinkling. 

"  Jeannie,"  he  called,  subtly  including  his 
wife,  "  dinna  laugh  at  your  poor  old  father.  'Tis 
not  respectful." 

"  Peg  —  asus !  "  said  Mrs.  Glenmuir  and  the 
Doctor  bridled. 

"  Jeannie,"  he  complained,  halting  Peggy, 
"  I  would  not  have  your  mother  so  verra  apt 
with  her  pointed  references  to  winged  horsies. 
Peggy  and  I  would  greatly  prefer  to  ramble 
about  in  our  own  way  and  I  wouldn't  swap 
my  piebald  snailie  for  old  flighty  Pegasus  any 
day!" 

Midst  a  welcoming  jubilee  from  his  collies, 
the  Doctor  alighted  and  flung  the  reins  to 
Jamie,  aptly  quoting: 

fr  Upon  a  bonny  day  in  June, 
When  wearing  thro*  the  afternoon, 
Twa  dogs,  that  were  na  throng  at  hame 
Forgathered  ance  upon  a  time! 

"  Down,  Caesar,  down  with  ye !  My  friend 
Duggie  has  creases!  Now,  Douglas,  man,  I 
would  have  ye  meet  my  wife  and  daughter  and 
presently  ye  will  see  my  bonny  roses  closer.  I 
remember  well  how  mortal  fond  of  flowers  ye 
were  as  a  lad,  even  though  they  had  no  compli- 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  341 

cated  souls  for  you  to  dissect  and  blether  wise 
about." 

Douglas  Macllvaine  laughed  and  turned 
appealingly  to  Mrs.  Glenmuir. 

"  Have  pity  on  me,  Mrs.  Glenmuir,  and  stop 
him,  do ! "  he  begged.  "  Ever  since  I  stepped 
from  the  train  he's  been  making  slighting 
references  to  soul  dissection." 

"  Dinna  mind  me,  Douglas,  lad!"  said  the 
Doctor  unexpectedly,  patting  his  guest's  broad 
shoulder.  "  I'm  just  so  mortal  proud  of  ye, 
man,  I  must  blether  a  bit  about  ye.  Whenever 
I  read  in  my  Medical  Journal  of  that  eminent 
psychologist,  Douglas  Macllvaine,  et  cetera, 
et  cetera,  I  just  gloat  a  bit  and  brag  to  Agnes. 
Still  I  canna  altogether  forgive  ye,  Duggie,  for 
deliberately  foregoin'  the  practice  of  medicine 
when  ye  had  such  a  wonderful  gift  for  it.  'Tis 
a  grand  guid  profession,  man,  for  all  ye  prefer 
to  analyze  the  mind  and  follow  your  new- 
fangled psychotherapy.  I  mind  me  how  ye  hyp- 
notized Sandy  MacPherson  in  Glasgow,  starin' 
at  him  until  we  could  just  fair  see  a  line  of 
dots  leadin'  from  your  own  eyes  to  Sandy's. 
And  by  and  by,  after  ye  had  chatted  with  him 
so  mortal  uncanny  in  his  trance,  ye  up  and  told 
him  why  he  could  not  sleep  of  nights.  'Twas 
account  of  some  psychic  disturbance  he'd  been 


342  The  Lovable  Meddler 

treasurin'  up  in  his  mind.  That  always  seemed 
to  me  a  most  wonderful  performance." 

"  And  Sandy,"  laughed  Macllvaine,  "  retali- 
ated by  sleeping  the  clock  around  next  night 
and  reporting  me  to  the  faculty  for  making  him 
do  it." 

'  Well,  Jamie,  my  lad,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"  what  would  ye,  eh?  " 

Jamie,  cap  in  hand,  scanned  the  group  upon 
the  veranda  eagerly. 

"  I  would  have  ye  see  the  roses  with  the  sun- 
set light  upon  them!"  he  exclaimed.  "  'Tis  a 
sight  for  sair  e'en.  I  did  not  think  that  any 
year  could  be  so  mortal  guid  for  the  flowers, 
though  for  matter  of  that  the  daffy  bugs  are 
worse  this  year  than  ever  before." 

"  Just  one  thing  I  canna  understand,  Doug- 
las, man,"  said  the  Doctor  as  they  followed 
Jamie  to  the  rose-garden.  "  I  canna  see  how 
ye  came  to  speak  such  beautiful  English.  Ye 
had  no  inconsiderable  burr  of  your  own,  man, 
in  Glasgow." 

"  The  roses!"  reminded  Mrs.  Glenmuir  tact- 
fully and  the  Doctor  in  a  glow  forgot  his  envy. 

Jamie,  finding  his  usual  confidant  busy, 
bitterly  complained  to  Jean  about  the  rose-bugs. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Jeannie,"  he  fretted,  "  I  canna 
help  feelin'  fair  sick  about  their  antics.  And 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  343 

they  have  with  them  this  year  a  big,  heavy-set 
beetle  with  a  scowlin'  face,  who  seems  to  be  a 
bit  of  a  leader.  I  would  I  could  find  him  and 
point  him  out  to  ye,  he's  so  desperate  lookin' 
and  so  mortal  bad." 

"  Why  not  organize  a  posse  and  round  him 
up?"  asked  Jean  with  a  twinkle. 

"  Aweel,  Miss  Jeannie,"  evaded  Jamie, 
ashamed  of  his  dislike  for  killing,  "  they  would 
doubtless  hold  a  caucus  of  all  the  beetles  in 
Christendom  over  his  body  and  then  I  would 
have  more  of  the  daffy  things  about  than 
before." 

Through  sunlit  hedges  of  roses  strolled  the 
Doctor  and  his  guest,  inspecting  and  admiring, 
until  at  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  the 
Doctor,  alert  for  the  welcome  sound,  wheeled 
in  excitement  and  resigning  Macllvaine  to  his 
wife  charged  off  across  the  lawn. 

The  Weston  carriage  was  creaking  up  the 
driveway  with  Rose  and  Mother  Letty  waving. 

"  Oh,  Letty,  lass,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor, 
"I'm  just  so  mortal  pleased  with  ye.  Ye  have 
even  a  bit  of  healsome  color  in  your  face  and 
your  pretty  brown  eyes  are  as  clear  and  bright  as 
a  young  lass  for  all  your  snow-white  hair. 
Grand  and  guid  to  get  home  again,  is  it  not, 
Letty,  with  our  splendid  commissioner  here 


344  The  Lovable  Meddler 

a-beggin'  me  so  persistent  to  quarrel  with  Raw- 
linson  and  coax  ye  home  before  it  was  guid 
policy  to  have  ye  come? " 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  get  home!"  said 
Mother  Letty,  ready  to  cry  for  joy  of  it  all. 
"  And  the  girls  are  on  the  way,  Roderick. 
They're  walking." 

"Duggie!"  called  the  Doctor.  "Hurry  a 
bit.  .  .  .  Letty,  my  verra  guid  friend  Doug- 
las Macllvaine.  Ye  have  all  doubtless  heard 
tell  of  him,  for  the  daffy  man's  a  celebrity.  My 
patient,  Douglas,  of  whom  I  have  told  ye  so 
much  —  and  Leddy  Rose !  And  let  me  likewise 
make  ye  acquent  with  Aunt  Ann  and  her 
alpenstock  —  we  like  best  to  call  her  Aunt  Ann, 
Duggie,  'tis  so  much  friendlier.  .  .  .  And  Mr. 
Weston,  ex-mayor  of  Auburnia.  And  this  is 
baby  Tavia.  .  .  .  Now,  Jeannie,  if  ye  will  just 
surrender  Leddy  Rose  to  me  I  would  be  greatly 
obliged.  .  .  .  Well,  Rose,"  the  Doctor  lowered 
his  voice  amid  the  pleasant  chatter  of  the  others 
and  glanced  searchingly  at  Rose's  face,  '*  ye 
have  had  a  verra  hard  winter  takin'  care  of 
Mother  Letty,  eh,  lass?  Ye're  a  bit  pale,  I'm 
thinkin',  for  all  the  sweet  cheeriness  of  your 
face." 

"  A  little  tired,"  owned  Rose.  "  Not  very. 
How  pleasant  and  cheerful  everything  is  with 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  345 

the  roses  all  in  bloom  again  and  the  dear  old  elms 
so  green!  And  there's  Flora  on  the  porch.  I 
must  speak  to  her." 

The  Doctor  fancied  he  had  never  seen  Flora's 
face  so  gentle. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Rose,"  she  exclaimed,  "  Auburnia 
will  be  a  different  place,  now,  lass,  with  your 
sunny  face  about  again.  I  have  missed  ye 
sorely  myself  and  so  has  Jamie.  And,  Mrs. 
Weston,  ye  could  not  look  stronger  and  better. 
It's  a  guid  day  for  all  of  us." 

Came  a  tremendous  whistling  now  and  up 
beneath  the  broad,  green  elms  marched  the 
Doctor's  lasses  with  the  whistling  twins  in  the 
lead  and  Bob  sauntering  on  behind  them,  baton- 
ing the  white-gowned  cavalcade  lazily  up  the 
walk. 

"My!  My!  My!"  The  Doctor  rubbed  his 
hands.  "  'Tis  a  verra  great  day.  What  with 
my  old  friend  Duggie  consentin'  to  honor  my 
rose-party,  and  Letty  and  Leddy  Rose  homin' 
in  accordance  with  my  plans,  and  the  pretty 
lasses  so  merry,  I'm  just  that  excited  I  canna 
breathe  guid.  Now,  Duggie,  if  ye  will  follow 
Flora  to  your  room  and  hurry  a  bit  we'll  all 
have  dinner." 

It  was  a  dinner  bright  with  roses  and  toasts 
and  chatter  but  the  Doctor  plainly  had  some- 


346  The  Lovable  Meddler 

thing  on  his  mind.  At  dusk  he  drew  Mother 
Letty  aside. 

"  Letty,  lass,"  said  he,  resting  a  gentle  hand 
upon  his  patient's  shoulder,  "  ye  will  greatly 
oblige  me  by  steppin'  into  the  office  for  a  spell. 
Ye  will  find  my  verra  guid  friend  Macllvaine 
there  already  and  I  ask  your  indulgence  with 
his  ways  and  whims.  Doubtless  ye  winna  just 
understand  him  entirely  at  first  but  I  beg  of 
ye,  if  ye  value  your  health  and  your  peace  of 
mind,  to  trust  him  greatly  even  as  ye  would 
trust  myself.  Before  he  takes  a  single  step  he 
will  explain  it  all  to  ye  as  I  have  pledged  him. 
He's  here,  dear  lass,  to  help  ye  resurrect  that 
thing  ye  canna  remember." 

Instantly  at  the  mention  of  this  dread  chimera 
of  many  tortured  days  and  nights,  Mother  Letty 
furrowed  her  brow  in  painful  concentration, 
then  with  a  quick,  bright  smile  of  utter  confi- 
dence in  the  Doctor,  she  passed  fearlessly  into 
the  office  to  Macllvaine. 

"  I  greatly  regret  that  old  Duggie  preferred 
to  have  her  alone,"  fretted  the  Doctor  with  his 
eyes  glued  upon  the  door.  "  Myself  I  would 
like  to  be  with  him  watchin'  him  make  passes 
and  dots  with  his  keen  eyes  to  put  Letty  to 
sleep,  as  he  so  graphically  described  it.  And 
I  would  like  greatly  to  hear  his  tactful  questions 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  347 

as  he  leads  her  on.  'Tis  but  a  whig-ma-doodle 
notion  of  his  that  he  must  be  alone.  I  know  well 
enough  it  is!  But  'tis  professional  etiquette, 
deil  take  it,  that  I  must  respect  it." 

Barred  from  the  test  of  his  brilliant  friend's 
psychotherapy  the  Doctor  frowned  and  fidgeted, 
tried  patiently  to  listen  to  Bob's  ragtime  and 
consulted  his  watch  a  score  of  times. 

Five  —  ten  —  fifteen  minutes  —  a  half  hour 
—  three  quarters!  Why  in  Heaven's  name  was 
the  man  so  slow?  Fifty  minutes. 

"  Verra  well!  "  decided  the  Doctor.  "  I  will 
rap  upon  the  door.  'Tis  beyond  the  power  of 
mortal  to  sit  patient  and  wait  any  longer." 

Nevertheless,  by  way  of  discipline  he  sat 
rigid  for  another  interval  and  found  reward  at 
the  end  of  it.  The  office  door  swung  back  and 
Macllvaine  appeared  upon  the  threshold. 

"Did  ye  find  out  the  daffy  thing  she  canna 
remember,  Duggie? "  demanded  the  Doctor 
instantly. 

Macllvaine  smiled  and  indicated  a  pad  of 
notes. 

"  She  was  readily  hypnotized,"  said  he,  "  and 
with  such  constant  and  terrible  concentration 
upon  the  one  thing,  it  was  ready  to  tumble  forth 
from  her  subconscious  mind  like  a  pea  from  an 
opened  pod.  In  time,  I  think,  under  certain 


348  The  Lovable  Meddler 

reminiscent  conditions,  she  would  have  recalled 
it  suddenly  of  her  own  accord.  Still,  at  first, 
I  dared  not  dwell  upon  it  at  all,  she  grew  so 
nervous,  but  bit  by  bit  after  a  while  we  began 
hypnotically  to  live  over  again  that  rainy  day 
when  she  fell,  unconscious,  in  the  office.  But 
that  too  made  her  very  restless  and  nervous 
and  so  by  way  of  soothing  her  a  little  I  took 
her  back  to  the  day  before,  thinking  to  lead  her 
very  gradually  onward  to  the  rainy  afternoon 
which  you  rightly  regard  as  the  crux  of  the 
situation." 

Macllvaine  consulted  his  pad. 

"  And  first  I  learned  that  upon  that  day  you 
had  dropped  in  and  spoken  to  her  of  one  Davy 
Gordon,  and  a  little  later  of  how  you  had  been 
called  in  to  a  directors'  meeting  to  attend  an 
apoplectic  director  named  Harvey  who  fumed 
and  talked  wildly  of  forty  per  cent  and  Don 
Quixotes  in  Wall  Street." 

The  Doctor  nodded. 

"On  with  your  story,  Duggie,  man!"  he 
encouraged.  "  On  with  your  story!  " 

"And  then  I  learned  that  Mrs.  Weston 
regarded  this  occurrence  as  extremely  significant, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  a  notorious  fact  in  the  street 
that  Harvey  had  been  fighting  a  dividend  in 
his  company  ever  since  it  was  formed  ten  years 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  349 

ago.  Next  in  her  mind  I  ran  across  the  Colfax 
loan  and  the  necessity  of  her  having  twenty-one 
thousand  dollars  in  ten  days  to  pay  it.  So  in 
desperation  she  drew  out  the  thirty-four  hundred 
dollars  she  had  saved  to  pay  on  her  yearly  note 
and,  figuring  that  so  little  of  the  total  was 
but  a  drop  in  the  bucket  anyway,  went  to  a 
broker  and  bought  seventeen  hundred  shares 
of  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  on  margin  upon 
the  strength  of  your  significant  tip." 

"Alabama  Coal  and  Iron!"  cried  the  Doc- 
tor. '  Ye're  sure,  man  Duggie,  ye're  sure? " 

"  Seventeen  hundred  shares  of  Alabama  Coal 
and  Iron,"  nodded  Macllvaine,  "  at  eighty, 
offering  thirty-four  hundred  dollars  margin. 
It  dropped  a  point  the  following  day.  By  this 
time  we  were  slowly  drifting  back  to  that 
ominous  rainy  afternoon  and  before  the  patient 
realized  it,  she  was  watching  the  tape  and  telling 
me  that  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron  had  soared  to 
one  hundred  and  forty-two  and  then  her  voice 
trailed  off  and  she  began  to  cry.  I  spoke 
sharply  to  her  and  she  burst  forth  desperately, 
'  Tell  Scanlon  to  sell.  Oh!  tell  Scanlon  to  sell, 
for  the  stock  may  drop ! '  That  is  the  thing 
she  was  trying  most  to  remember.  She  bought 
the  stock  under  the  name  of  Letitia  Manning 
and  the  broker's  receipt  is  in  the  pocket  of  a 


350  The  Lovable  Meddler 

black  coat  she  hasn't  worn  since  she  came  home 
ill." 

"  Scanlon  —  Scanlon  ye  say?  We  must  look 
him  up.  .  .  .  Hum.  .  .  .  Wall  Street.  .  .  . 
River  Drive.  He'll  likely  be  home.  .  .  .  I'll 
phone  from  the  library,  Duggie,  then  she  winna 
be  bothered." 

The  connection  was  slow.  When  at  last  it 
came  the  Doctor's  patience  was  nearing  an  end. 
Over  the  wire  Scanlon  corroborated  Letitia 
Manning's  purchase  of  seventeen  hundred  shares 
of  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron. 

"  Now  I  would  have  ye  hold  the  wire,"  said 
the  Doctor  to  Scanlon.  "  Duggie,  can  she  come 
to  the  wire  and  give  him  the  order  to  sell? " 

"  No,"  said  Macllvaine,  "  she  certainly  can 
not.  She's  over-excited  now.  Tell  him  she'll 
personally  wire  the  order  in  the  morning  before 
the  market  opens." 

The  Doctor  delivered  the  message  and 
rang  off. 

"  And  Scanlon  says,"  he  exclaimed  in  wild 
excitement,  "  that  at  noon  of  the  day  followin' 
her  order  to  him,  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron 
declared  a  dividend  of  forty  per  cent  after  ten 
uneventful  years  and  Harvey  he  was  down 
sick  with  temper  at  his  home  at  bein'  so  defeated 
after  years  of  fightin'  against  it.  And  the  stock 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  351 

soared  to  one  hundred  and  forty-two,  man 
Douglas,  with  the  market  wild  and  crazy  at 
such  an  unexpected  splurge.  Now  it  hangs  at 
one  hundred  and  forty,  with  Letty  makin'  sixty 
dollars  upon  every  share  if  she  sells  immediate. 
One  hundred  and  two  thousand  dollars,"  thun- 
dered the  Doctor.  "  One  hundred  and  two  thou- 
sand dollars!  I  canna,  canna  believe  it.  And 
the  dividend  of  forty  per  cent;  sixty-eight  thou- 
sand more.  And  all  account  of  my  droppin'  in 
to  see  Davy  and  tellin'  Letty  of  the  Don 
Quixotes  in  Wall  Street.  Stupid  gowk  I  am 
that  I  did  not  think  a  bit  of  it  myself.  Guid 
faith,  I  must  tell  the  folks." 

And  tell  them  he  did,  but  to  Rodney  the  good 
news  had  its  bitter  kernel  of  irony  for  many 
a  day. 

"  What  would  be  the  matter  with  the  glum 
face  of  ye,  man?  "  demanded  the  Doctor.  "  Are 
ye  not  glad  with  the  rest  of  us  about  Letty's 
uncommon  guid  luck  and  the  grand  guid  fact 
that  all  of  your  money  troubles  are  over 
forever?  " 

"  It  —  it  is  not  that,"  said  Rodney.  "  But, 
Roderick,  I  —  I  had  planned  so  to  atone  to 
her,  doing  it  all  myself.  And  now  —  " 

"  Ye  mean  ye  winna  ever  be  able  to  support 
Letty  as  she  so  bravely  supported  you,  the 


352  The  Lovable  Meddler 

lass  havin'  money  of  her  own?  .  .  .  Hum. 
Well,  that  is  verra  true  but,  man 
Rodney,"  warned  the  cautious  Doctor,  "  ye  can 
work  just  the  same,  money  or  no,  for  now 
that  ye  have  no  paintin'  to  fill  your  mind,  I 
would  not  see  ye  vitiated  again  by  indolence.  If 
ye  keep  busy  commissionerin'  and  are  a  self- 
respectin'  man,  I  take  it  Letty  would  not  ask 
more  of  ye.  If  Letty  is  quite  herself  again, 
Rodney,  ye  might  fetch  her  from  the  office. 
The  folks,  I  take  it,  are  just  longin'  to  beam 
at  her!" 

With  the  beaming  in  full  swing  the  Doctor 
inconspicuously  departed  for  the  office.  Here 
behind  closed  doors  he  rang  up  the  Music  Box. 

'  Whist,  Grant,"  he  urged,  "  I  know  verra 
well  the  lads  said  they  would  greatly  prefer  to 
bide  at  home  away  from  my  party,  'twould  be 
so  mortal  painful  to  meet  the  lasses;  but  now 
I  would  have  ye  all  attend  in  a  body.  .  .  .  'Tis 
imperative.  Guid  faith,  ye  canna  guess  offhand 
how  verra  imperative  it  is!  There  is  grand 
guid  news.  .  .  .  No,  I  canna  trust  myself  to 
tell  ye  by  phone.  I  will  say  just  this:  'Twill 
greatly  alter  the  lives  of  all  of  ye.  .  .  .  Yes, 
the  lasses  are  all  here,  flockin'  proud  about  their 
mother  —  for  guid  reason  too.  .  .  .  Jerry  is 
home?  .  .  .  Guid,  he  canna  be  gloomy 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  353 

to-iiight  when  I  have  told  him  the  news.  .  .  . 
Aweel,  tell  him  to  bring  the  sketchin' 
friend,  too,  whoever  he  is.  ...  Garret  Van 
Duyn.  .  .  .  Well,  man  Garry  is  verra  wel- 
come. .  .  .  Grant,  I  winna  rest  content  until 
ye  have  all  come  and  patched  things  up  with 
the  Westons.  And  to-morrow  I'm  cablin' 
Larry.  .  .  .  Now  I  must  ring  off.  My  party 
guests  are  arrivin'.  I  hear  the  colonel  boomin' 
outside  and  I  canna  linger  bletherin'  here  with 
ye.  Besides,  I  would  see  all  the  faces  when 
they  hear  the  news.  ...  I  will  expect  ye  all 
in  fifteen  minutes  by  the  clock  and  if  ye  dinna 
come,  I  will  wheel  out  my  motor  and  come 
a-whirligiggin'  swift  and  sudden  after  ye!" 

Twenty  minutes  later  came  the  whir  of 
Grant's  motor  in  the  driveway  and  the  Doctor, 
marshaling  his  lads  into  the  office  with  an  air 
of  intrigue,  melodramatically  closed  the  door 
and  related  a  tale  of  Alabama  Coal  and  Iron 
that  dispersed  the  gloom  from  Jerry's  brow. 
And  Quin,  snapping  off  his  glasses  with  the 
old  gesture  of  energy,  shook  hands  first  with 
Grant  and  then  with  everybody  else  and  finally 
led  a  cheer  that  upset  the  guilty  Doctor. 

"  Whist,  ye  daffy  lads ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"Dinna  ye  go  to  hurrahin'  like  that  again!  I 
dinna  wish  my  Agnes  to  know  that  I've  cor- 


354  The  Lovable  Meddler 

raled  ye  all  here  and  am  hard  at  work  again 
upon  my  matchmakin'.  The  poor  leddy  is 
afraid  to  have  me  open  my  mouth  any  more, 
I  have  such  a  facility  for  gettin*  into  pickles. 
And  now,  lads,  go  forth  every  mother's  son 
of  ye  to  your  coortin'  again  and  dinna  let  me 
hear  of  a  single  failure  after  the  fearful  winter 
we've  all  been  through.  Hum.  .  .  .  Now  I 
dinna  wish  to  meddle,  laddies,  ye  know  that 
well,  I'm  sure,  but  would  any  of  ye  consider  it 
sinful  and  presumptuous  if  I  begged  ye  all  to 
report  your  progress  to  me  a  bit  later?  I  will 
be  so  mortal  anxious  about  it  all  that  I  winna 
rest  content  until  I  have  heard  whether  or  no 
this  final  installment  of  your  eventful  sweet- 
heartin'  has  gone  guid." 

And  report  they  all  did,  one  by  one,  with 
glowing  faces.  Norman  alone  looked  a  trifle 
crestfallen. 

"  And  of  course,"  he  confided  to  the  attentive 
Doctor,  "  I  naturally  felt  that  the  rose-garden 
was  the  fitting  spot  for  such  an  important  crisis 
in  my  life,  the  knotting  of  the  severed  threads 
of  my  destiny  as  it  were.  So,  with  considerable 
gravity  and  dignity,  I  thought,  I  asked  Lucia 
to  go  out  to  the  rose-garden  with  me.  And 
what,"  said  Norman  scandalized,  "  what  do  you 
suppose  she  said  ?  She  said :  *  Rats,  Norman 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  355 

Ames!  I'm  not  going  out  there  to  have  you 
wave  your  arms  around  tragically  in  the  moon- 
light and  attract  all  the  Doctor's  guests  to  the 
show.  Since  you've  stopped  exercising,  you're 
entirely  too  fat  for  that  sort  of  thing.  You're 
over-romantic  anyway.  You  love  me  and  I 
love  you  —  we  settled  that  a  long  while  ago  — 
and  now  that  mother's  miraculously  won  a  for- 
tune, that's  all  there  is  to  it.'  Lucia,"  finished 
Norman,  conscious  of  a  twinkle  in  the  Doctor's 
eyes,  "  is  a  mighty  practical,  level-headed  sort 
of  girl.  She's  just  the  influence  I  need,  for 
I'm  beginning  to  think  myself  that  I'm  too 
romantic.'.' 

******** 

To  hear  Doctor  Roderick  read  from  his 
thumbed  and  ragged  volume  of  Burns  was  a  rare 
treat  at  any  time,  for  he  read  with  such  a  wealth  of 
love  in  his  voice  for  his  favorite  bard  that  there 
was  needful  perhaps  little  else  to  thrill  his 
audience.  But  to-night  —  with  forefinger  mov- 
ing slowly  along  the  line  to  keep  the  place 
and  eyes  roving  from  friend  to  friend  —  he 
read  those  selections  which  he  deemed  consistent 
with  the  time  and  the  occasion  and  there  was  an 
irresistible  note  of  jubilance  that  reached 
them  all. 


356  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"  The  Rose-Bud  "  began  it  and  to  know  how 
well  the  Doctor  read  his  Burns,  it  was  but 
necessary  to  catch  certain  surreptitious  gleams 
of  pride  in  the  eyes  of  the  colonel  and  the  judge, 
whose  occasional  "I  tell  you,  sir!"  nods  of 
the  head  suggested  some  great  and  personal 
achievement. 

ff  A  rose-bud  by  my  early  walk, 
A  down  a  corn-enclosed  batvk, 
Sae  gently  bent  its  thorny  stalk, 
All  on  a  dewy  morning!" 

Scotch  Jamie  and  Flora  tiptoed  into  the 
dining  room  beyond  to  listen,  convinced  that 
they  were  unobserved  but  all  the  while  in  such 
plain  view  that  one  had  but  to  twist  his  neck 
a  bit  to  see  them.  And  to  hear  the  Doctor  read 
the  wordjs  "  sae  gently  "  and  "  all  on  a  dewy 
morning,"  with  a  caress  in  his  voice  and  his 
grizzled  head  thrown  back,  would  have  thrilled 
the  most  phlegmatic! 

Then  came  "  The  Birks  of  Aberfeldy,"  and 
"  A  Red,  Red  Rose,"  "  My  Name's  Awa',"  and 
"  Lassie  Wi*  the  Lint-white  Locks,"  till  Jamie's 
eyes  were  moist  with  the  tears  of  the  exile  and 
the  Doctor  himself  put  aside  his  book  for  a 
while  before  he  read  "  To  a  Mountain  Daisy." 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  357 

"  Guid  faith! "  he  exclaimed  once,  "  I  would 
just  have  ye  listen  to  this  again! 

'  When  Cynthia  lights  wi*  silver  ray 
The  weary  shearer's  hameward  way, 
Through    yellow    waving    fields    we'll    stray 
And  talk  o  love,  my  dearie,  o. 

"  Ah ! "  with  a  wondering  shake  of  his 
grizzled  head,  "  Bobby  Burns  is  fair  uncanny 
with  his  word  pictures.  Canna  ye  just  see  the 
tired  man  trampin'  homeward  through  the 
heather  with  the  moonlight  upon  him?  It  will 
count  but  a  wee  twenty-four  words  and  yet  he 
weaves  into  them  more  than  one  bonny  picture. 
There  is  the  tired  shearer  in  the  moonlight,  an 
inferential  picture  of  his  work  through  the  day 
reapin'  the  corn  in  the  sunlight  and  still  another 
of  the  lovers  strayin*  through  wavin'  fields  of 
moonlit  grain  in  bonny  Scotland!  Guid  faith, 
only  Bobby  Burns  could  do  it ! " 

Rose  touched  him  impulsively  upon  the  arm. 

"  And  now,  Doctor  Roderick,"  she  said,  "  we 
must  have  *  The  Auld  Farmer's  New  Year 
Greeting '  to  that  faithful  old  mare  of  his. 
You  read  that  best  of  all." 

"  Why,  dear  Leddy  Rose,"  exclaimed  the 
Doctor,  "  there's  nothin'  in  it  of  flowers  and  trees 


358  The  Lovable  Meddler 

and  all  that  for  a  June  party  and  besides  —  " 
with  a  sly  dig  at  his  wife's  disapproval  of 
Peggy  —  "I  wouldn't  wonder  if  it  brought 
unpleasant  ideas  into  the  Leddy  Glenmuir's 
head.  I  have  been  told  she  owns  an  odd  beastie 
of  her  own." 

But  in  the  end  he  yielded. 

Good  fellowship  and  beaming  faces,  music 
and  rejoicing  and  friendly  chatter!  Who  could 
resist  them?  Certainly  not  an  impetuous  Scot 
with  a  passionate  love  for  the  customs  of  his 
people.  So  —  what  with  Rodney  dancing 
attendance  upon  his  wife  in  the  fashion  of  a 
certain  southerner,  with  the  peck  o'  maut  foam- 
ing high  at  last  with  a  sparkle  of  cheer  and 
"  man  Duggie  "  sharing  with  Letty  the  honors 
of  the  evening  —  it  was  quite  too  much  for  the 
Doctor  and  presently  with  an  exuberant  swirl 
of  bagpipe  music,  down  the  stairs  and  through 
the  hallway  straight  into  the  circle  of  Mrs. 
Glenmuir's  scandalized  vision  he  came,  gor- 
geously arrayed  in  the  kilts  and  plaid  of  the 
Clan  Gregarach.  Red  and  black  his  tartan, 
fierce  and  terrible  the  claymore  and  dirk  at  his 
side  and  in  the  folds  of  his  bonnet,  cocked 
outrageously  upon  his  head,  bobbed  the  sign 
of  his  grandfather's  high  estate,  the  eagle 
feather  of  a  chieftain. 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  359 

"  Merciful  Heavens !  "  reflected  Mrs.  Glen- 
muir,  stricken  dumb  at  the  sight  of  him.  "  And 
I  was  so  sure  I  had  hidden  those  kilts  away! " 

Nothing  daunted  by  his  wife's  horrified  gaze, 
the  Doctor,  head  and  feet  keeping  time  to  the 
bagpipe,  marched  madly  about  among  his 
laughing  guests,  bursting  forth  into  song  as 
he  went,  to  a  tune  of  his  own  making: 

"  Oh,  my  coat  and  my  vest,  they  are  Scotch 

o'  the  best, 

O'  pairs  o'  guid  breeks  I  hae  tiva,  man, 
And   stockings    and   pumps    to    put    on    my 

stumps, 
And  ne'er  a  wrang  steek  in  them  a',  man. 

"  Dinna  mind  me,  Agnes,  lass.  I  winna  ever 
again  break  loose  like  this  with  my  grand- 
father's fixin's.  'Tis  such  a  night  of  rejoicin' 
as  a  man  canna  resist  if  he  has  mortal  blood  in 
his  veins.  And  if  Larry  were  but  here  my  cup 
of  happiness  would  be  complete.  Guid  folk! 
I  see  by  the  smilin'  faces  of  ye  that  ye  dinna 
feel  so  critical  about  my  costume.  Colonel, 
ye're  nothin'  like  so  shocked  as  ye  look.  Now, 
Bobbie,  lad,  to  the  piano  with  ye.  I  would  have 
all  my  guests  sing  out  of  the  book  of  Scotch 
songs  while  I  follow  with  my  bagpipie." 


360  The  Lovable  Meddler 

"Flow  Gently,  Sweet  Afton,"  "Ye  Banks 
and  Braes  o'  Bonny  Doon,"  "  Highland  Mary" 
and  "  Whistle  O'er  the  Lave  o't,"  one  by  one 
the  Doctor's  favorite  songs  were  rendered  with 
a  vim,  the  Doctor  and  his  bagpipe  following 
along  as  best  he  could,  sometimes  a  bit  fretful 
and  explosive,  sometimes  expending  a  vast 
amount  of  breath  with  no  result  whatever  and 
always,  to  the  infinite  relish  of  Colonel  Huntley, 
a  full  bar  behind  the  singers. 

Later  the  Doctor  retrieved  caste  by  playing 
a  pibroch  more  adapted  to  the  irrationalities 
of  his  bagpipe. 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  Colonel  Huntley 
as  the  wild,  martial  strains  took  on  a  windy 
and  somewhat  irregular  fierceness.  "  What's  a 
pibroch,  Peter?  " 

'  War  song,"  said  the  judge. 

The  colonel  chortled. 

"War  song,  eh?  S'pose  it  means  Roderick's 
having  a  battle  with  the  bagpipe.  Right!" 

On  the  porch,  smoking,  for  he  felt  stranded 
and  lonely,  Lloyd  glumly  listened  to  the  singing 
and  the  bagpiping  within. 

"  I  say,  Quin,"  he  exclaimed  as  Quin  came 
out  upon  the  porch  lighting  a  cigarette,  "  who 
in  the  deuce  is  this  fellow  Jerry  picked  up  down 
South  anyway.  He's  fairly  good-looking  but 


The  Lovable  Meddler 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  361 

I  must  say  the  way  he  hangs  around  Carol 
Weston  makes  me  tired.  I  hate  a  man  who 
deliberately  selects  a  girl  at  a  party  like  this 
and  makes  her  conspicuous  by  his  attentions, 
and  that's  exactly  what  Van  Duyn's  been  doing 
to-night.  Why,  Great  Guns!  you  can't  get  a 
glimpse  of  Carol  without  you  see  him  trailing 
along  at  her  heels.  It's  infernally  bad  taste." 

"  Carol  likes  him,"  said  Quin.  "  Besides,  you 
can't  entirely  blame  Van  Duyn.  Carol,  in 
that  fluffy  yellow  thing  she's  wearing  to-night, 
with  those  yellow  roses  in  her  hair,  is  simply 
ripping!  And  her  color's  gorgeous.  She  looks 
a  lot  like  Aunt  Ann.  Garry  thinks  she's 
remarkably  handsome  and  Carol's  been  very 
sweet  and  gracious  to  him.  As  for  Garry 
himself,  he  comes  of  an  old  wealthy  Dutch 
family  of  New  Yorkers  and  he  can  paint  like 
a  streak.  Jerry  wants  to  coax  him  out  to  the 
Cave  to  live." 

Lloyd  flung  away  his  cigar. 

"  Jerry,"  said  he  coldly,  "  loses  his  head  about 
as  easily  as  anyone  I  know.  Think  I'll  go 
home.  It's  after  eleven  and  I'm  tired  and 
sleepy.  Shouldn't  wonder  by  the  general 
turtle-dove  atmosphere  of  things  if  I'd  have 
to  ramble  home  by  myself  anyway. 

"  I    never   did   think   much   of   promiscuous 


362          The  Lovable  Meddler 

acquaintances,"  he  went  on  after  a  while. 
"  Always  remind  me  of  an  experience  a  friend 
of  Dad's  had.  He  picked  up  a  pleasant  enough 
chap  on  the  steamer  one  time  and  he  turned 
out  to  be  a  horse-thief!  " 

"Oh,  cheer  up,  Lloyd!"  said  Quin  and 
reported  the  conversation  to  the  Doctor. 

"  Think's  he's  goin'  home,  eh? "  sputtered  the 
Doctor.  "  Well,  he  shan't.  I'm  losing  patience 
with  Lloyd.  There  are  times  when  he's  as  can- 
tankerous as  Ginger  and  he's  so  dinged  proud 
of  his  fancy  that  he's  a  woman-hater  that  I  feel 
like  shakin'  him  a  bit,  he's  so  mortal  stubborn 
about  it.  The  whole  truth  of  the  matter  is  the 
lad's  heels  over  head  in  love  with  Carol  himself 
and  he  winna  admit  it.  How'd  he  come  to 
know  so  much  about  Garry  to-night  if  he  wasn't 
watchin'  Carol's  every  move,  tell  me  that!  And 
he  winna  go  home.  I  just  winna  have  my 
pleasant  party  spoiled  with  him  sulkin'  off 
homewards  so  early.  Doubtless  with  ye  all  so 
happy  and  so  pleasantly  occupied  the  poor  lad 
feels  out  of  it  a  bit.  I  must  take  him  in  hand 
myself." 

'  Whist,  Carol,"  whispered  the  artful  Doctor 
a  little  later,  "  would  ye  just  slip  -out  to  the 
porch  for  me  and  beg  Lloyd  to  wait  a  bit  like 
a  guid  lad  until  I  can  speak  with  him?  I  canna 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  363 

have  him  scallawaggin'  off  home  so  early.  I 
would  gladly  go  myself  but  I  —  er  —  I  will  be 
so  mortal  busy  from  now  on  distributin'  scones 
and  bannocks  with  Flora  that  I  winna  have 
time  to  catch  him  before  he  goes.  Ye're  a 
guid  lass.  I  just  knew  well  enough  ye'd  oblige 
me.  Garry,  lad,  I  would  have  your  assistance 
with  the  movin'  of  this  table." 

Carol  departed  to  do  the  Doctor's  bidding, 
far  too  happy  to  harbor  an  ancient  grudge. 

"  Surely  you're  not  going  home  so  early, 
Lloyd!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  The  Doctor  sent  me 
out  to  beg  you  to  wait." 

"  Well,"  acknowledged  Lloyd  lamely,  "  I 
did  think  some  of  going  but  perhaps  after  all 
I  won't.  It  was  merely  a  whim." 

Carol  looked  up  at  the  summer  moon  riding 
through  a  milk-white  fleece  of  clouds. 

"  Hasn't  it  been  a  wonderful  evening,  Lloyd ! 
If  only  Larry  were  here  too.  I  shan't  for- 
get it." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Lloyd.  "  There  are  some 
things,  of  course,  one  can't  forget."  He 
glanced  at  Carol's  face,  beautiful  and  kindly  in 
the  moonlight.  .  .  .  Had  she  forgotten  the 
feud? 

"  Carol,"  he  said  manfully,  "  I'd  like  awfully 
to  apologize  to  you  for  the  way  I  led  you  home 


364  The  Lovable  Meddler 

that  day  on  Ginger's  back.  It  —  well  —  it's 
one  of  the  things  I  can't  forget.  I  often  think 
of  it  but  frankly  I've  never  been  brave  enough 
to  speak  of  it.  I  never  realized  how  infernally 
presumptuous  it  was  until  —  until  long  after- 
ward. And  then  that  day  beneath  the  apple 
tree!  I  meant  well  enough,  the  Lord  knows, 
but  that  of  course  doesn't  in  the  least  excuse 
my  officious  interference  in  your  family  affairs. 
I'd  like  to  beg  your  pardon  for  that  too.  I 
thought,"  he  glanced  anxiously  at  the  girl's 
dark,  demure  face,  "  I  thought  if  you're  will- 
ing we  might  bury  that  ridiculous  feud  and 
start  afresh.  I'd  like  to  be  friends  and  I'd 
like  awfully  to  ride  with  you  in  the  morning  if 
you'll  let  me.  I  ride  alone  as  a  rule  and  it's 
getting  on  my  nerves.  I've  watched  you  sev- 
eral mornings  now  on  the  horse  your  aunt  gave 
you  on  your  birthday  and  you're  riding 
splendidly." 

Carol  held  forth  her  hand. 

"  We  were  both  very  young  and  very  silly," 
she  said,  her  dark  eyes  friendly.  "  And  of 
course  I'll  ride  with  you.  I  don't  believe 
anyway  that  I  was  ever  civil  enough  to  thank 
you  for  rescuing  me  that  day  when  Ginger 
ran  away." 

Through  the  open  window  floated  the  incau- 


Chapter  Thirty-Six  365 

tious  voice  of  a  kilted  cribbager  bickering  with 
his  cronies. 

"  Dinna  blether  so,  Colonel,"  it  said  briskly. 
"  I  winna  have  ye  a-pesterin'  Peter  so  persistent. 
What  if  he  does  have  the  edges  of  his  cards  so 
neat  and  even?  I  canna  see  that  it  interferes 
any  with  your  playin'.  On  with  the  game,  man, 
before  Flora  gets  here  with  the  goodies." 

"Hum!"  said  Carol  very  thoughtfully,  "I 
thought  the  Doctor  was  going  to  help  Flora 
distribute  scones  and  bannocks!" 


Chapter  37 

Of  the  great  Indian  liner,  Singapore,  and  a 
quiet  water-garden 

WELL,"  commented  the  impatient  Doctor 
to  his  lads,  "  I  have  just  this  much  to  say: 
I  could  dock  a  boat  better  myself.  Look,  would 
ye,  look  at  the  daffy  tug!  Buzz!  buzz!  up  and 
down  and  round  about  and  all  this  while  with 
my  troosers  gettin'  baggier  and  my  collar  meltin', 
we  must  wait  upon  the  pier  in  the  fearful  heat. 
I  just  haven't  any  patience  left  and  I  canna 
see  how  the  rest  of  ye  can  stand  there  a-smilin' 
so  mortal  cheerful.  Ye  would  think  the  lot 
of  us  had  come  to  South  Brooklyn  with  the 
sun  blisterin'  patterns  on  our  backs,  just  to 
watch  two  boats  scallawaggin'  about  to  find  a 
perfectly  conspicuous  pier.  If  I  was  not  so 
mortal  hot,  I  would  scribble  a  bit  of  a  note  to 
the  company  right  now  that  would  stir  'em 
up  considerable.  .  .  .  Ah !  "  with  tremendous 
satisfaction,  "  she's  comin'  in !  " 

A  cheer  went  up  from  the  crowd  as  the  great 
Indian  liner  Singapore  swung  heavily  in, 
docking  amid  a  general  flutter  of  excitement. 

366 


Chapter  Thirty-Seven          367 

"  By  George ! "  Jerry  mounted  a  packing 
case.  "  There  he  is.  See,  Bob,  over  there !" 

"Hum!  By  cracky,  Jerry,"  exclaimed  the 
excited  Doctor,  "  ye're  right.  Give  me  a  bit 
of  foot-room  on  the  case.  Larry  it  is,  lookin' 
about  for  the  crowd  of  us  and  so  bronzed  and 
tall  and  handsome  I'm  mortal  proud  of  him." 

Instantly  seven  pairs  of  hands  cupped  seven 
pairs  of  lips  and  the  crowded  pier  rang  with 
an  eager  "Oh,  you  Larry!" 

The  bystanders  smiled. 

"  There  —  hurrah,  he's  seen  us !  "  cried 
Norman,  and  the  Doctor  and  his  lads  waved 
hats  and  handkerchiefs. 

Clumsily  the  gangplanks  creaked  down  to 
the  pier.  In  great  perplexity  the  Doctor  nudged 
Norman. 

"  Guid  faith,  Norman,  lad,"  he  whispered, 
staring,  "  what  manner  of  man  would  that  be 
there  with  Larry?  See,  him  with  a  muslin 
muffin  on  his  head  instead  of  a  hat.  See,  he's 
walkin'  stately  down  the  plank  now  behind 
Larry.  .  .  .  Hum.  .  .  .  Must  be  the  King 
of  the  Whig-ma-doodles  himself!  " 

"  By  George,"  said  Grant  with  interest,  "  it's 
an  Arab.  Sort  of  dazed  by  the  noise  and 
excitement  too  —  "  and  then  they  were  all  push- 
ing forward  to  fall  upon  Larry  with  a  cheer, 


368  The  Lovable  Meddler 

shaking  his  hand  and  banging  him  so  much 
upon  the  back  that  the  Doctor,  who  had  been 
buzzing  about  his  nephew  like  a  giant  bumble- 
bee, felt  called  upon  to  protest. 

"  Give  the  poor  lad  a  chance  to  breathe!  "  he 
commanded  sternly.  "  Guid  faith,  Bobbie,  what 
with  the  great  bulk  of  ye  loomin'  so  close  to 
Larry,  there's  neither  light  nor  air.  Larry, 
canna  ye  turn  your  luggage  over  to  an  express- 
man and  have  it  sent  on  to  Auburnia  without 
waitin'?  Guid.  I  canna  stand  this  swelterin' 
place  another  minute." 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  Larry!  "  Quin  held  the 
traveler  at  arms'  length,  "  you're  as  black  as 
an  Arab  yourself,  man.  And  who  in  thunder 
is  the  stately  shadow?" 

"  Call  him  Butts,"  said  Larry,  laughing.  "  I 
do.  His  name's  as  full  of  links  as  a  chain. 
Been  with  me  a  year  and  threatened  to  kill 
himself  if  I  left  him  behind." 

Larry  spoke  kindly  to  the  Arab  and  the 
Doctor  beamed. 

"  Hear  the  lad  jabberin'  heathen  talk.  Larry, 
ye  mean  to  tell  me  ye  brought  him  with  ye  all 
the  way  from  the  desert?  Ye've  a  mortal  kind 
heart  and  Buttsie  has  excellent  discrimination. 
Now,  get  along  with  ye,  lads.  Quit  buzzin' 
around  Larry  and  parade  behind  me.  I  would 


Chapter  Thirty-Seven          369 

have  Larry  to  myself.  Mind  ye,  Roger,  if 
someone  doesn't  tend  Butts  he  will  doubtless 
be  kidnapped  for  a  side  show." 

And  Butts,  whose  dusky  eyes  had  never  once 
left  Larry's  face,  fell  gravely  in  behind  the 
Doctor,  with  the  Doctor's  lads  closing  up 
behind  him  in  protective  files. 

"  Larry,  lad,"  said  the  Doctor  as  they  filed 
forth  into  the  street,  "  I  would  I  were  gifted 
with  words  to  tell  ye  how  mortal  glad  I  am  to 
see  ye.  But  I  could  not  hope  to  do  it.  I  doubt 
me  if  Bobbie  Burns,  with  all  his  grand  guid 
gift  of  words,  could  swing  such  a  job  himself. 
And  I  must  tell  ye,  dear  lad,  ye  have  won  a 
splendid  victory.  I  can  see  it  by  the  face 
of  ye." 

"  Well,"  said  Larry,  "  the  monasteries  and 
philosophers  of  the  East  have  a  thing  or  two 
to  teach  us  yet.  And  to  me  the  desert,  with 
its  changeless  calm  and  quiet,  is  a  sort  of  dis- 
cipline in  itself." 

4  There  are  lines  of  strength  and  courage 
about  your  mouth.  I  take  it  the  turbulent  steel 
of  ye  found  its  temperin*  across  seas.  Maybe, 
Larry,  it  has  all  been  for  the  best.  Who  may 
say?  Laddie,  there  is  so  much  to  tell  ye  from 
the  time  poor  Mother  Letty  dropped  down  in 
the  office  until  the  time  I  cabled  ye  to  come  home 


370  The  Lovable  Meddler 

with  all  possible  speed  and  wed  dear  Leddy 
Rose,  that  I  dinna  know  just  where  I  shall 
begin." 

But  the  Doctor,  who  in  reality  always  found 
it  easier  to  begin  than  to  finish,  soon  found  him- 
self launched  upon  his  story,  indignantly  waving 
back  those  bolder  members  of  his  band  who 
essayed  a  word  or  so.  Even  when  the  train 
drew  into  Auburnia,  the  Doctor  felt  that  there 
were  most  unsatisfactory  gaps  all  along  his 
story. 

Now,  to  Larry's  astonishment,  although  the 
Doctor  and  his  lads  alighted  from  the  train 
at  his  very  heels,  they  melted  mysteriously 
away  as  if  by  prearranged  advice.  And  left 
to  himself,  Larry,  quite  forgetting  Butts,  who 
had  haughtily  ignored  the  frantic  signals  of  the 
Doctor,  hailed  a  cab  as  the  Doctor  had  pre- 
dicted and  went  rattling  northward  to  the 
Westons. 

The  old  house  was  very  quiet,  the  drowsy 
flowers  nodding  in  the  summer  air.  Curtains 
flapped  lazily  behind  the  open  windows.  Noise- 
lessly, Larry  halted  by  the  hedge.  Yes,  Rose 
was  there  beneath  the  willow  in  the  water- 
garden,  the  inevitable  basket  of  darning  in 
her  lap. 

Larry  swung  back  the  rustic  gate  and  stepped 


Chapter  Thirty-Seven  371 

within,  conscious  of  the  heavy  scent  of  water 
lilies.  Rose  turned,  then  with  the  color  flooding 
wildly  to  her  face,  she  was  on  her  feet,  basket 
and  darning  sliding  with  a  splash  into  the  pool 
unheeded.  But  it  was  typical  of  Rose's  sweet 
and  cheerful  sanity  that  she  did  not  lose  her 
poise. 

"Oh,  Larry!"  she  said,  holding  forth  her 
hands  to  greet  him.  "  Oh,  Larry !  " 

Larry  imprisoned  the  trembling  hands  within 
his  own. 

"  Well,"  said  he  gently,  "  well,  Leddy  Rose!  " 

"  And  the  Doctor  said  he  did  not  think  you 
could  possibly  get  in  until  to-morrow."  «. 

"  The  Doctor,"  said  Larry,  "  knew  better. 
But  he  loves  surprises." 

Larry  drew  her  closer. 

'  Well,"  said  he,  smiling  down  into  the  brave, 
brown  eyes  that  scorned  to  hide  their  message 
of  love  and  welcome.  "Well!  So  the  brave 
little  soldier,  having  won  her  battle,  is  through 
fighting,  and  now  the  lovelorn  sentry  who 
lacked  at  first  the  courage  to  fight,  may  be 
called  in  from  the  lonely  outpost." 

Rose  nodded,  her  cheeks  like  the  petals  of 
the  rose  whose  name  she  bore. 

"  Oh,  Larry,  my  brave  boy ! "  said  this 
astonishing  girl  at  last,  "  after  all,  what  have 


372  The  Lovable  Meddler 

I  ever  done  to  merit  such  wonderful  happiness? 
Ah,  it  seems  somehow  as  if  it  could  not  possibly 
be  true!" 

Neither  of  them  heard  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels  or  a  rasp  and  cough. 

"  Oh,  I  know  well  enough  ye'll  forgive  me," 
said  the  Doctor  at  last  from  the  hedge,  "  but  I 
could  not  wait.  It  seemed  that  I  just  must 
feast  my  eyes  upon  the  two  of  ye  together  or 
go  quite  mad  a-waitin'.  What  with  us  a-slippin' 
away  to  give  ye  a  clear  coast,  Larry,  I  had 
verra  great  difficulty  controllin'  my  excitement. 
And,  Larry,  ye  went  rollin'  off,  a-leavin'  poor 
Butts  stranded  on  the  curb  with  the  newsboys 
shootin'  pebbles  at  the  muslin  muffin  on  his 
head  and  him  jabberin'  and  shriekin'  for  help 
till  I  heard  him  myself  behind  the  station.  And 
straightway  I  rushed  up  and  rescued  him  and 
I  took  a  carriage  then  myself  and  delivered  him 
at  the  Music  Box.  My!  My!  Would  ye  see 
the  poor  commissioner's  socks  floatin'  wet  and 
neglected  about  the  pool,  and  the  basket  and 
all  t'other  whirligigums  tangled  in  the  lilies! 
Well,  well,  I  did  surprise  ye,  eh,  Leddy  Rose? 
God  bless  the  pair  of  ye ! " 

So  the  willow  that  had  watched  the  ship- 
wreck of  these  lovers,  watched  the  barque  of 
their  love  —  a  love  strengthened  and  hallowed 


Chapter  Thirty-Seven  373 

by  sacrifice  —  ride  gloriously  into  port.  And 
moved  by  the  summer  wind  the  old  tree  spread 
leafy  branches  of  benediction  above  them. 


Chapter  38 
The  Bridal  Rose 

AN  AUTUMN  moon  hung  high  above  the 
water-garden.  It  shone  in  at  the  checker- 
board windows  of  the  Weston  house  upon  a 
wealth  of  roses.  Smilax  and  autumn  leaves 
garlanded  doors  and  mantels,  all  the  work  of 
Rose's  sisters,  who  had  scorned  to  consign  this 
final  task  to  alien  fingers. 

'  We  must  marry  the  dear  lass  off  with  a 
million  roses ! "  the  Doctor  had  said  largely. 
"  For  my  pretty  lass,  Agnes,  she  is  the  verra 
fairest  Rose  of  all." 

Above  stairs  in  the  old-fashioned  bedroom  so 
reflective  of  her  home-keeping  heart  stood 
Mother  Rose  so  fair  and  sweet  and  gentle  in 
her  trailing  gown  of  satin  that  Aunt  Ann, 
crossing  to  the  bed  where  lay  the  great  square 
of  Carrickmacross  lace  waiting  to  veil  the 
bride,  with  tear-filled  eyes,  kissed  the  girl  on 
the  cheek. 

But  it  was  Mother  Letty  at  last  who  pinned 
the  heavy  lace  upon  the  girl's  fair  hair  with  a 
tightening  of  her  throat.  After  all,  in  the 

374 


Chapter  Thirty-Eight  375 

passionate  mother  heart  of  her  there  was  a 
separate  shrine  for  Mother  Rose. 

"Dear  Mother,"  said  Rose,  kissing  her 
mother's  forehead,  "  please  don't  look  so  tearful, 
dear,  on  my  wedding  night.  How  pretty  you 
must  have  looked  in  this  dear  old  lace  veil  when 
you  and  Dad  were  married." 

"  As  sweet  and  pretty  as  a  flower ! "  nodded 
Aunt  Ann  briskly.  "  Now,  Letty,  I  know  very 
well  you're  on  the  verge  of  tears.  I  vow  and 
declare  I  am  myself  but  here's  our  dear  girl  so 
calm  and  sweet  and  cheerful  that  I  for  one  feel 
heartily  ashamed.  Now,  Letty,  you  run  along 
and  get  the  girls  together;  the  carriages  will  be 
here  any  minute.  A  prettier  batch  of  brides- 
maids I've  never  seen  and  Tavia  looks  like  a 
fairy.  And  you'd  better  just  see  if  Rodney  is 
fully  appareled.  He's  pretty  much  excited  and 
he's  been  battling  some  with  his  tie." 

In  the  Cave  and  the  Music  Box  the  excite- 
ment was  intense. 

"  Well,  by  George,"  said  Jerry,  "  we're 
having  some  time  marrying  off  old  Larry  all 
right  and  by  the  time  I've  married  off  the  rest 
of  you  and  arranged  some  little  similar  affair 
for  myself  I  expect  to  be  a  nervous  wreck. 
Now,  Uncle  Shad,  where  in  blazes  are  my  cuff 
links?  So,  Roger  Washington  Brett  I  You 


376  The  Lovable  Meddler 

have  them  in  your  own  cuffs,  eh?    R-r-robber! " 

In  the  Music  Box,  Grant  and  Quin  and  Lloyd 
were  tying  and  untying  cravats,  calling  back 
and  forth  all  sorts  of  advice  to  one  another 
and  chaffing  Bob,  who  in  the  responsible  capacity 
of  best  man  was  trying  to  persuade  the  smiling 
groom  that  he  was  nervous.  And  Butts,  dis- 
missed by  Larry,  stalked  gloomily  from  room 
to  room  in  a  hopeless  effort  to  assist  the  others. 

Jerry,  arriving  from  the  Cave,  motioned 
Larry  to  the  library. 

"  Larry,  old  man,"  said  he,  "  I  know  I'm 
some  grand  gloomster  and  that  certainly  was  a 
fool  stunt  of  mine  dropping  the  curtain  from 
the  other  picture  with  the  gang  around  but, 
Larry,  I've  a  little  apology  for  all  that  right 
here  and  I  —  er  —  it's  something  I  think  you'll 
understand  and  appreciate  and  —  and  I  want 
you  to  know,  Larry,  that  I  can't  pretend  to 
express  the  good  wishes  that  go  with  it."  And 
Jerry  held  forth  a  miniature  so  exquisitely  done 
that  Larry  stared.  It  was  a  fanciful  little 
painting  of  Rose  in  the  white  robes  of  a  nun, 
the  winsome  face  beneath  the  band  of  white 
glorified  by  a  look  of  high  and  holy  consecration. 

Larry  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Jerry,  old  man,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  believe  I 
ever  realized  how  well  you  all  understood." 


Chapter  Thirty-Eight  377 

"  For  the  third  time,"  came  Bob's  patient 
voice,  "  I  must  remind  you  that  the  ushers 
ought  to  be  there." 

Jerry  fled. 


In  an  ivied  old  church  on  a  quiet  street  the 
Doctor's  lads  ushered  him  into  the  Weston  pew. 

"  Agnes,  lass,"  he  whispered,  "  would  ye  just 
look  at  my  ushers!  With  their  evenin'  clothes 
and  their  spotless  white  gloves,  ye  winna  find 
any  handsomer,  manlier  lads  in  the  world.  Ye 
needn't  smile,  Agnes;  'tis  true.  And  I'm  pretty 
fine  myself  with  my  creases.  Agnes,  how  long 
d'ye  think  it  will  be  now  before  they'll  be 
marchin'  up  the  aisle?  Larry  must  be  here 
already,  for  just  that  moment  Butts  slipped  in 
verra  swift  and  quiet  with  his  muslin  muffin  in 
his  hand.  ...  I  did  not  suppose  he'd 
come.  .  .  .  No,  Agnes,  I  winna  be  quiet. 
Other  folks  whisper  a  bit.  Why  canna  I  too? " 

Came  the  echo  of  the  cathedral  gong  striking 
eight  and  the  Doctor  stirred  again. 

"  Agnes,"  said  he,  "  eight  was  the  time. 
They're  late  already.  .  .  .  There  comes  Letty 
and  Aunt  Ann.  .  .  .  That  will  be  June's 
signal  for  the  weddin'  march.  Larry  told  me. 
.  .  .  My!  My!  Isn't  Ann  mortal  handsome 


378          The  Lovable  Meddler 

with  her  trailin'  purplish  satin.  And,  guid  faith, 
Agnes,  for  once  she  has  left  her  alpenstock  at 
home.  Deil  take  it,  I  wish  Letty  did  not  look 
so  mortal  sad.  .  .  .  Didn't  I  tell  ye,  Agnes  ? 
.  There  goes  the  weddin'  march!  " 

And  June,  who  had  been  softly  improvising  — 
for  surely  no  other  fingers  must  play  the  march 
for  Mother  Rose  —  opened  the  great  diapason 
of  the  organ  and  flooded  the  quiet  church  with 
the  deathless  strains  of  the  Wedding  March. 

"  Marcia  and  Sonia  and  the  twins!  "  whispered 
the  Doctor  in  awe  as  the  girls  filed  by.  'Tis  a 
grand  effect,  Agnes,  that  blue  with  the  dear 
lasses'  sunny  hair  and  their  pretty  eyes.  .  .  . 
Hum  .  .  .  Carol  and  my  Jeannie.  .  .  . 
Agnes,  I  would  have  ye  look  at  our  beautiful 
Jeannie.  And  now,  plague  take  it,  it  winna  be 
so  long  before  I  myself  will  be  leadin'  my 
precious  bairn  to  Bobbie.  Oh,  deil  take  it,  a 
weddin'  is  a  verra  emotional  sort  of  thing. 
Agnes,  'tis  a  bit  of  a  job  to  be  a  father  and 
mother  and  give  your  dear  bairns  away  to 
others,  eh,  dear  lass? " 

"  Roderick,  please  do  be  quiet !  " 

Through  an  aisle  of  maids  and  ushers  came 
wee  flower-laden  Tavia,  and  then,  with  a  rustle 
of  heavy  satin  and  the  perfume  of  roses,  Mother 
Rose  upon  the  arm  of  Rodney. 


Chapter  Thirty-Eight  379 

The  Doctor  looked  away. 

"  Oh,  Agnes,"  he  said,  "  I  just  canna  look 
at  my  dear  lass  in  her  trailin'  satin,  bendin'  her 
lovely  head  above  the  great  bunch  of  roses. 
When  I  think  of  all  the  trouble  she  has  seen 
and  then  look  at  her  tranquil,  beautiful  face  so 
sweet  and  cheery,  it  just  makes  such  a  lump  in 
my  throat  that  I  canna  stand  it.  See,  Agnes, 
there  come  Larry  and  Bob  to  meet  'em.  I 
canna  see  how  the  dear  lad  can  be  so  calm.  I 
would  be  crazy  with  excitement.  Look  at  the 
fine  color  of  him!" 

Through  the  reverent  quiet  came  the  grave 
words  that  made  the  Doctor's  beloved  nephew 
and  his  Leddy  Rose  staunch  partners  for  life 
and  then  the  soft  crush  of  satin  as  Rose  knelt 
beside  Larry  to  receive  the  benediction,  so  like 
her  mother  that  Rodney  turned  away  biting  his 
lips  and  gulping,  his  color  gone.  And  before 
the  excited  Doctor  was  fully  aware  that  it  was 
all  over  at  last,  that  Larry  was  coming  down  the 
aisle  with  Rose  upon  his  arm,  the  bridal  proces- 
sion was  gone  again  and  the  guests  were  driving 
away  to  the  wedding  reception. 

"  Agnes,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  I  fancied  Rodney 
would  take  the  chance  to-night  to  be  mortal 
important,  but  he's  so  white  and  quiet  I  feel 
verra  sorry  for  him,  verra  sorry  indeed." 


380  The  Lovable  Meddler 

And  later,  when  the  bridal  carriage  had  driven 
away  to  the  station,  with  Rose  waving  from 
the  window  and  the  Doctor's  lads  cheering 
themselves  quite  hoarse,  the  Doctor  walked  down 
the  path  to  the  gate  where  Rodney  stood,  staring 
pathetically  after  the  carriage.  Scanning  the 
drooping  figure  of  his  host,  with  something  of 
a  shock  the  Doctor  felt  that  Rodney  was  older 
and  sadder  to-night  than  he  had  ever  seen  him, 
that  the  hair  upon  his  temples  was  growing 
white.  The  Doctor  patted  him  kindly  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Oh,  Roderick,"  exclaimed  Rodney  desper- 
ately, "  I  have  been  thinking  how  Letty  drove 
away  so  with  me  in  the  moonlight  years  ago  to 
trouble  and  sickness  and  almost  to  death 
itself—" 

"  Man  Rodney,"  said  the  Doctor  bluntly,  "  'tis 
verra  different.  Larry  will  guard  the  lass  as  he 
would  guard  his  life  and  he  does  not  take  him- 
self over-seriously.  There  is  great  happiness 
ahead,  I  take  it,  for  Mother  Rose  —  and  much 
for  yourself  and  Letty  as  well  if  ye  but  keep 
your  two  feet  solidly  in  the  path  to  which  ye 
have  so  bravely  set  them.  For  ye  have  guid 
stuff  to  work  with,  man,  but  ye  had  wrapped 
yourself  in  so  many  sinful  wrappers  of  conceit 
and  delusion  that  we  had  to  peel  'em  off  one 


Chapter  Thirty-Eight  381 

by  one  to  find  ye.     And  now  that  we  have 
disinterred    the    kernel,    by    unremittin'    labor, 
please  God,  may  we  keep  it  alive ! " 
And  the  Doctor  held  out  his  hand. 


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